I stood at the window thinking what a beautiful world. It was snowing, the first significant event of the new year. The whiteness was sticking, and schools and businesses were wisely closed. As I watched winter’s wonderland, a rush of peacefulness came over me.
That didn’t last for long.
With all that winter beauty comes responsibility. My sidewalks were snow covered, and my long driveway was filling up. I have a snow shovel, but honestly, it was never really mine. Anything to do with the yard was not my chore, my job was to sit back and enjoy it. Now, I needed to shovel my way out or call someone to do it for me. Then, my worry could shift to frozen pipes, loss of power, and all those other winter predictions that make you doubt yourself.
Instead, I stood at the window, taking in the wonder of it all.
Still, the snow kept falling and I could feel the weight of it on my shoulders. The day before, I filled my cabinets and my bird feeder but forgot about spreading my blue ice melt, like that was going to help me now. Shoveling snow is strenuous work, it takes a strong back and a hardy heart and a willingness to start and finish.
I just want to look out the window.
On snow days like this one, I want to admire the beauty and not connect it to work. I wish I could take it all in and not let the responsibility take that away. Lately, there is a lot of learning going on in my life and this is one more thing. I’ve learned to mow and mulch, so surely, I can drag out that shovel and do this. There’s just one thing.
Shoveling snow is not my thing.
The snow increased and so did my pacing. From the window, I measured the depth and density and knew that this snow was out of my league. I will call someone. I will ask someone. I will reach out and someone will come when they can.
Or I could do it myself.
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard