Snow Day

I’m sure I looked quite a character trudging up the road, bundled from top to bottom in those mismatched winter clothes from the cupboard.  

But I felt warm wrapped in the scarf I knit myself with wool from Vermont sheep. Trudging up the road in my mismatched socks and clunky Sorels, I remembered the farmer’s market where I bought those skeins of grey yarn, happily chatting with the vendor about her sheep.  Itchy as it is and uneven stitched as it may be, that scarf dresses me in memories.

These blizzard days off are magical in the way snow days probably only are for teachers and their students. Fresh air fills my lungs and pinks my cheeks This day after walk cleans all kinds of dusty places inside me.  My pace is slowed, sun smiles on my face, and I’m living under the bluest sky I think I’ve ever seen. Suddenly there’s time. Time to think. To nap. To walk. To breathe.  There’s beauty in my world and just down my road.

Gratitude walks by my side.  Awe tags along pointing out the snow-covered curve of that path and the gentle movement of those clouds.  How easy it feels to live in my world today.  How simple. Uncluttered. Peaceful.
Tomorrow’s worries wander on some other horizon.  I won’t be hurrying or worrying or scurrying today. Today, hope lives in the warmth of this very moment – tucked in and snug.  Maybe tomorrow, all my mismatched socks might frazzle me and maybe tomorrow, I’ll find some new cobwebs in my corners.  But not today.
Today’s a snow day and my branches stretch big and wide in all that open sky.

Peace, Barbara

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