Stalling in the Soft White Snow

There is something remarkably magic about the first angel-white snowfalls in winter. Every year, the first snow brings out the innocence and childlike enthusiasm in all of us. Like most signs of the changing seasons, snowfall renews and rejuvenates my spirit.

I can't help but become a small child filled with joy as I try to catch soft white flakes on my tongue during the first days and nights of snowfall. Like the city lights reflecting off the white roofs of houses, part of me glows from deep inside.

This year I've been fortunate to have two first snowfalls. Last week I drove through the beautiful deep woods of Northern Wisconsin on freshly-snowy gravel roads (a barn near Rhinelander is pictured above), and tonight in Madison streetlights reflecting off of snow lights up the streets and houses of my neighborhood.

Well, my counts were too low to start the last leg of rough chemo on Monday so the bad news is we seem to be currently stalled out. The good news, however, is that I feel great and have been fortunate to have the health to truly enjoy the first snowfalls of this winter.

Take Care,

Sam

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The Silence and Sounds of Snow

As I sit in my apartment

sipping warm cider,

the snow falls silently

outside my windowsill.

The silence of this season’s

first late-night snowfall

provides peace, and

quiets my restless soul.

As I quietly and contentedly

watch the soft flakes silently fall,

it occurs to me that snow

also has many sounds.

Snow squeaks and whooshes

under my thin Rossi skis,

as I speedily glide through a

dense grove of evergreens.

It illicits the innocent laughter

of euphoric young children,

who sled and make snow-angels

on the school year’s first snowday.

Sometimes, after a snowfall,

the surface of the snow is Icy

and, as I walk, each step

provides a satisfying “Crunch!,”

reminiscent of a silver spoon

breaking the caramelized crust

of a freshly-torched crème brulee.

When I hear any of these

familiar sounds of snow,

my usually active mind

falls silent, and I slowly

drift into the strong

and wonderful memories

that these sounds summon.

As I watch the snow

fall silently outside my

windowsill, from the warmth

and comfort of my Apartment,

my restless soul feels quiet, and

I am simultaneously thankful

for both the silence as well as

the many distinctive sounds of snow.