That early morning winter blue

Remember that excitement filling your bones as winter drew near?  Slowly, pieces of outer wear started turning up on the coat rack - mittens, scarves, hats, and soon enough the snow was hitting the ground in big white balls of fluff.  It came down so thick, as if not real...being tossed on us by the handfuls from the sky above.

Kids love winter.  I have yet to see a child not get thrilled at the thought of bundling layers over their body, only to be given the go ahead to scream out the door and wildly leap into the first big pile of snow they see.  It's a way of life around here.  Any place that has 4 seasons (yes I know, some of us Wisconsin cynics complain that there are only two seasons - winter and road construction) has a bit of magic.  There is a speed to each metamorphosis that can seem deathly slow.  One 90 degree day after another in the peak of July, or one -25 degree day after another in the bleak of January.  But the magic happens at the first hint of the arrival of that next season.

The first flecks of green appearing in spring, from the dead brown ground.  Like the dead awakening, reaching for the renewing sunlight.  Then the first blossom; always the most special.  Soon all the fields and yards and gardens are full of color.  Lush and beautiful.  Rarely do we notice the first leaf to flash gold in August.  It isn't until full patches of orange and yellow and red start to appear, that we know autumn has begun to greet us.

Then that first snow!  Not the dust that might fall in October or early November.  I mean the first time the sky opens and gives us piles of the soft white stuff to roll around in.  For weeks, the mornings were dark, thick black and dark.  But with white snow on the ground, the mornings become alive!  All the soft pastels that were lost are now reflected on the snow and bathe the neighborhood in serenity.  A house across the street is frosted with blue-white color as the chimney releases plums of lazy smoke.

These mornings I love.  I sit with my coffee in the not-so-dark living room, in front of my picture window and just try to absorb the peacefulness before me.  Sometimes I still get that wistful urge to hastily pull on layers of clothing and just run around in circles in the front yard, throwing the snow up in the air.  But sometimes its just nice to watch nature's magic, thankful that I not only see what passes before me, but that it is a part of me as well.