I live in a small city just outside Des Moines in Iowa.
Winter has finally struck here.
It’s cold. Yesterday there was a high of 16 degrees Fahrenheit with a wind chill of -14. I didn’t leave my dwelling, for it was too cold to do so (and I was recovering from my first work week back post COVID-19, but that’s a different story). It’s the kind of cold that seeps into your bones. It’s the kind of cold that has the husband and I scrambling for the space heater even though our heat is on because our heat can’t warm the place up fast enough.
And it snowed yesterday. Official count was about four inches, and it seems as though there are a few inches on the ground.
I am one of those weirdoes who actually likes the snow and watching it fall. I love being outside in it for certain lengths of time. I hate driving in it. But then again, I’m not the biggest fan of driving period. I love walking in it, even when it’s cold. In the nearly fifteen years I have lived here, I have learned to layer and how to dress to keep warm. I prefer to walk places, even in snow, though the ice is a different story.
Even winter has its beauty. There’s a certain magic to the way ice forms on window panes and tree branches. There’s a power to the snow drifts and wind gusts. The air is breathtaking, literally. There’s a satisfaction in the way the snow crunches beneath boots and slides across concrete in a snow shovel. Even though it can be so cold outside that frostbite and hypothermia is a possibility, the snow coating everything gives it a quality that is almost indescribable.
And the sunrises and sunsets with the winter backdrops are spectacular.
There’s inspiration in the weather, no matter the season. I love to watch the clouds of a snowstorm drift in, like they did a few weeks ago. I enjoy the pattern the ice makes on my window every morning. I love taking in those icy breaths and watching the warm air flow like puffs of smoke as I breath out.
And I love writing about it. After all, the Tree of Weather in the Glen of the Maples is the work of Eathelin, the Bearer of Nature…..
If you don’t know what I am talking about, perhaps you should start reading my stories!
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And as always, #writeyourownstory
K. S. Wood Writes 