Winter Imbolc Moon
Well. Finally. A real snow storm. The white stuff started falling around midnight on Saturday and continued through the day Sunday. Maybe 10 to 12 inches. Ted of All Trades plowed us out in the afternoon. I cleared our deck and the path to garage 5 times as the snow fell. It’s easier to clear it before it builds up too much bulk.
When the temperature drops, the clouds roll in over Mt. Evans and the flakes begin to come down in earnest, I feel Shadow Mountain most keenly. Not sure why, but I know we’re on a mountain top then. It feels secure and cozy, the forest and the peaks around us our real home.
Maybe that’s it. When the snow falls, we are intimately linked to the mountains and the forests, all of us experiencing this change, the soft silence that pervades the lodgepole stands, the aspen groves, that covers the iced over Maxwell Creek with more cold water, that drifts in our open bedroom window. Just as the deer and the fox and the mountain lion and the elk have to wade through the snow, so do I on my way out to get the mail or the newspaper.
Beautiful. Important. A gift from the sky to our thirsty plants. We’re all grateful.
