Outside My Door

I ‘popped awake’ at o-dark-thirty this morning.

Blessed with a deep peace within my body and soul.

Both of which had, the past two days, been protesting and nagging me in one way or another.

Grateful, I clambered out of bed to start the day a bit sooner and easier than I have so many days this past year.

By the time daylight appeared, I realized, once again, how grace had found me and how end of yesterday, desperate prayers are so often answered.

The harsh, noisy, sharp and jarring things that often invade both my internal and external worlds, were all muffled overnight.

Courtesy of Mother Nature.

Early Daybreak Roof and Grandfather Pine

Between my viewing early and a short hour later, the fluffy flakes continued their fall.

Sometimes heavier/thicker, sometimes lighter and faster.

A minute here, a moment there, they fall at a slant, dancing without prediction through time and space.

I find myself continually distracted from work this morning.

Not by digital reminders, inquiries from customers, or busy flurry of social media, mind you.

I simply find myself taking more breaks from work to open the door and gaze upon the gifts of Spring in Colorado.

An hour or so later – I can see where I shoveled, but not clearly because of continuing snowfall

I still marvel at and feel blessed when these kinds of snow storms arrive, no matter how out of sync I am with the world or myself, in the time leading up to the moment.

For, after all, I’ve witnessed moisture in form of snow that arrives on the howling winds of the Valkyrie, where one is forced to realize they must choose and choose carefully! which battle to ‘fight’ just this moment in time.

I’m reminded of those who have walked from home to barn for chores, while using a rope strung between, to keep connected and avoid being lost in a landscape of eternal white.

Those who drive their own known landscape to check on soon-to-be-spring-mamas livestock, while horses, pickups or ATVs struggle through the blindness ahead, weight added to progress below, and landmarks disappear beneath soft blanket of gently rolling contours that is hard to recognize.

I think also of those who commute forth to work and then back home at a crawl….

Where 1 mile of the white abyss above and the slick, can’t be trusted ground below, feels like 10 miles have passed, MUST have been traversed by now and confusion over just when they will reach sharp curve?

Only to find out a few miles traveled, later, in one brief moment of clarity by stilling winds, they are still on approach.

All these things happen to modern humans still….often or here and there.

In landscapes where GPS doesn’t work, where cell phone signal fails and online maps, if accesible aren’t always accurately labeled.

The World and Individual Merge Sometimes

Where the only thing you can count on is your experience, knowledge and tools you have with you, when all that stands between you and survival is you and Mother Nature only.

Where you hope the mode of transportation you are utilizing, performs as well as you hope it will, to get both of you back to safety or grace you with the ability to ride out the storm – be it your own feet, a living thing that is stronger, larger, and kinder than you? or a mechanical version of ‘latest greatest’ options humankind has brought to market.

All while modern forecasts and warnings abound early and often.

Via digital notifications, social media and warnings from local family, friends and neighbors who assidiously do their best to keep you informed….

For some folks?

EVEN our internal framework whispers or shouts at us, to inform us –

A storm is on the way….

But also whispers,

Where are you going to be when the storm hits?

For many? Depends on what prior agreements or future gains are to be made on the ‘go out/stay home’ options, best as they can surmise with the data they have now.

For those who have done before and still do, the above challenges?

I like to think they never fully forget the fury nor do they fail to appreciate the beauty of moisture when the storm arrives gently.

Or they move to live where blizzards and/or snow never happen, first chance they get.

Bearing Burdens with Grace

From my earliest memory, I recall the concern over wet spring snows and the damage that can be done to trees by those storms.

I still wonder – Do the trees bear the weight as long as the wind doesn’t show up insisting they bear the burden AND twist with dexterity in face of the wind’s whims?

Or do they break when hampered by additional drag AND a wind that insists they ‘go with the flow’?

I do not claim to know.

All I currently would profess to knowing is….

There are spring, wet, heavier snows. There are colder, dryer, more windswept winter snows.

And sometimes the boughs break and sometimes, they do not.

Many in my tribe have been taught well, early on, even before speech or walking or the yearning for self-determination, the realities as understood, on this topic.

We are taught gently and quietly, via a soothing voice and gentle hand, often in the dark of the night, the facts regarding that when the wind blows, our cradle will rock – when the bough breaks, our cradle will fall.

The lullaby doesn’t tell us exactly when the bough will break, or if we will survive the fall or not.

The Snow Falls, The Trees Stand

The evergreen pines this morning are, thus far, carrying the weight of wet spring snow with grace and aplomb and remind me each time I gaze out at them, that I too, have burdens to carry and perhaps my bough will break, perhaps I shall fall, but maybe…

I am strong enough to carry the weight, until it melts away or the wind shows up.

If the Wind shows up and demands I twist & turn in agility, submission, while carrying the weight, and I go with the flow?

I may survive it –

I may Break and Fall –

Perhaps, I shall break here and there, but remain standing.

Who knows?

Certainly not I…

But springtime snow storms remind me, perhaps, all I need do is stand still and wait.

It’s Colder now

As the front moves through in all the ways I do not understand, scientifically, I feel the air on my face and realize, it is colder now, than it was near dawn.

A streak of black captures my eye and I watch one of the calico feral cats, bound across the white expanse that must appear bigger to them, than to I.

And then pause,to gaze right back in my direction, though I haven’t moved yet.

The latest generation of adults, from long ago calico who first brought her babies here to raise.

Their mother or grandmother sat and gazed in my direction, often, in other moments of years past, in much the same way.

Quizzically, as if to see, what shall I do?

Simply assessing if I’m a threat?

Wondering if I’m capable to go out and hunt up breakfast in snow all by myself?

I give up trying to ‘think I know what the cat might be thinking’ and instead, snap a picture.

The cat, as if their patience with my photo taking has been rewarded quickly, turns quickly away and bounds through the snow across the alley, perhaps on their way to ‘hunt up some breakfast’ from my neighbor’s woodpile?

Given the great reduction of needing to set mouse traps in my home this past year it occurs to me perhaps they have ‘hunted’ my place out or the local rodent population has figured out my place isn’t the safest place to hide/set up housekeeping.

Who knows?

Certainly not me.

I can only observe and strive to remember what I observe – both in the past and as time goes by.

One Front Wanes

I returned once more to work , and a few hours later, realize- this storm front has passed for now…

The air and room are not as cold. More light fills house from outdoors.

I gaze outdoors to find a driveway cleared – no shoveling or plowing – it’s darker ground, heat sink (?) and engineered long ago layers means, it’s melting before the flora areas are.

The doorway shoveled so very early this morning is no longer shoveled and again covered in white, but just for a ways….

The roof that repels sun in summertime, manages to melt up and ‘shed it’s weight right onto growing beds – except for those areas of pesky doorways – that must be removed…..

And, despite a life fashioned to work from home, no livestock to care for outside, I must monitor my doorstep and the first 6 feet of walk way today.

For I haven’t yet decided how to rebuild the porch/walkway for optimum functionality over what was here when I moved in 8+ years ago (!) and for now?

Needs moved, for snow/snowmelt not removed today, while it’s warm, will turn into hockey rink to walk across as night temps continue to re-freeze what melted a few short hours before….

Now I must return to work

I am reminded, once again….

Trees keep on being trees – cats keep being cats if I don’t insist on domesticating them…and me?

I am given grace and beauty –

That beckons to me ….always…..

From right outside the door.

6 thoughts on “Outside My Door”

    1. I have been ‘counseled’ to wait long before talking/replying – but after ‘waiting’? Sigh – I can only think, “Hmmm…Mark saw something beautiful in snow/blizzard stories? Well, then, my goal of finding beauty in hard/chaos/who knows? way of seeing such things must have landed somewhere – thus, THANK YOU! Cuz I’ve been trying to for years! years I tell you! to share the beauty I see in various things, which often? Don’t seem that great or fun – at the time they are happening! So Thanks for your feedback – I reached one! Though, I really don’t expect you to convert to moving out here and being my neighbor – LOL – – any more than I wish to move to the coastland – LOL

      Liked by 1 person

      1. There are just some beautiful turns of a phrase here and there. And a feeling that, at least for a few moments, you were at peace with your surroundings. And … while I never want to actually live where it snows, your words reminded me that I wouldn’t mind visiting the snow every now and then. There is nothing else quite like being in a snowfall. Not a blizzard, or a massive storm, but a quiet snowfall, that blankets the world in white and quiet and beauty. Your post got all of that.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. I had to laugh when I read your comment, even while I appreciated the comment – I recently did an experiment in feedback for writing/editing operations – and well – – I ‘think to much/type too many words/type too much” and this piece? Before edited? was 815 words long – thanks for reading after I got done ‘editing it’ and made it nearly twice as long! 😀


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