Tuesday, January 03, 2006


The light died in the low clouds.
Falling snow drank in the dusk.
Shrouded in silence,
the branches wrapped me in their peace.
When the boundaries were erased,
once again the wonder: that I exist.
-- Dag Hammarskjold, Markings
Quiet ---- There is only silence. When I listen closely, there are sounds of the river rushing to join another river - and on to the sea. The wind slushing through the trees, rattling ice-coated branches as it passes; tiny whispering patter of snow (or sleet) joining all the millions of other flaky crystals covering the roof.

I am drawn to the window… snowflakes linger on my hands and face. I am surrounded by myriad sounds that can be heard only when the noises of everyday living are silent… soft chirps of feeding birds; the clicking sound of a cardinal; the cawed morning greeting of a small flock of crows. I am captivated by gentle sounds and peaceful images, drawn into an awareness of beauty.

Icy mist silently swirls along the river, curling its way through the woods, wrapping me into this quiet time with the birds and trees allowing me to feel at one with nature

Darkness lingers with the storm making it difficult to get pictures of the mixture of ice and snow which covers everything. Power lines have their own coating of white. Trees are bent over with the weight of the snow; now and then the silence is broken as branches creak and sometimes fall.

Not a car or airplane breaks the silence until after eight am when the plow and sander cut through the layer of slushy ice and begin to open the roadway. As close as possible and yet avoid the rooster tail of muck, a string of cars follows --- and silence again.

Snow, rain, sleet, snow again… hard falling crystal beads, then huge fluffy flakes. Snow builds up, washes away, and builds up again. The thermometer reads thirty-five degrees; barely warm enough to keep the ice from becoming a serious problem.

How easy to be wrapped in my own world, surrounded by this cocoon of snow. I am amazed that people are not telling me how beautiful the city is in its pristine blanket of snow. I am so immersed in the view from my window --- it didn’t occur to me that it might be raining somewhere else. I have been completely surrendered to this present moment.


Blogger Fran said...

Your entry is sheer poetry--and especially fascinating for a So Cal woman. Your photos are beautiful, too. Are you publishing professionally? You've got it!

12:55 AM  
Blogger Endment said...

I grew up in Glendale many many years ago so there are days when think of warm winters and flowers growing all year... I also love the seasons here and enjoy the snow until about mid-February.
No I'm not publishing.

Thanks for the kind words.

5:33 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home