After the Snow

Trees encased in ice. 1/21/24 8:15 am -2 degrees f

A gray and balmy morning, January 25,2024, the day of the Full Moon. A gentle rain falls outside. I am attempting to integrate and narrate for you the feeling and message of the past 10 days. Early on the morning of January 15, snow began to fall. By the time it had stopped, the ground was covered by at least 7 inches. Then the temperature fell and stayed below freezing for several day.

We had provisioned ourselves expecting to be snowed in for four days or so. It ended up being well over a week. I spent a lot of time and energy keeping our solar, water and propane systems running so we could work from home, drink and wash and stay warm. Although we never thought we were in real danger, many nights below zero served to convince us how close that danger really was.

There were also moments of profound beauty, especially at dusk and dawn when the sky and snow and Moon light produced scenes that I tried, and mostly failed, to capture in pictures. There was deep gratitude and delight in simply eating a delicious meal in our cozy cabin. There were family and friends to check in on and compare notes with, reminding us of how precious community is, especially in times of crisis. And there was the constant companionship and support that Susan and I were able to offer one another. It was all quite an adventure. No doubt some of you reading this will have had a similar experience over the past week or so.

Before the world resumes its’ normal pace I would like to take a moment to think about and honor the truths that a large scale “weather event” can revel to us. As I said, the days were filled with beauty and gratitude as well as a sense of imminent danger and the hyper vigilance that keeps this at bay. We see, at such times, how these seemingly opposed experiences are tightly braided. We also see how this yarn runs through even the most normal day. We are reminded of how beautiful and precarious a thing life is; how the fragility of life is the very motive force of the pleasure we take in it.

A good friend here on the mountain put it best, “what ever it is going on here, we are not at the center of it”. As something of an animist, I often find myself in “conversation” with the weather. Everything that happens here at little meadow, from the electricity we derive from sunlight to the decomposition of compost, from the rain that provides all our (and your) water to Susan's daily commute, is profoundly influenced by Sun and Rain, heat and cold, wind and humidity. For most of human history, the weather, and the plant and animal life which depends upon it, have appeared to us as God like powers which we cower before or glory in. Nothing has changed.

To be very clear, I am glad of the return of warmer days, glad for the rain that has melted the ice and snow, even of the dull browns and tans of our winter landscape without snow. But I am also grateful to have been shown once again how dependent we are upon the powers of nature. These powers reside within each of us as well. Our ability to simultaneously fear and respect the powers upon which our lives depend, and to appreciate their awe inspiring beauty and feel gratitude for their life giving gifts, represents our soul’s response to the living world around us. We are both a part OF and apart FROM this world. Being a part of this vast community of living beings allows us to understand and respond to the challenges and opportunities offered to us by our kindred spirits. Being apart from them allows us the distance to see them as individuals with their own prerogatives and to feel gratitude and respect for what they offer and are free to with hold at their pleasure.

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I wanted to get this published as soon as possible after the recent snow and cold while the impression was still fresh.

I hope you all survived and even thrived.

I will be back in a few weeks with my “reguler” quarterly post. Meantime, keep safe and grateful.