Broken Silence

I woke this morning to what I have come to call an “Adirondack morning.”

The temperature was three-degrees. Six-inches of new snow had fallen lightly throughout the night. It was a light, dry snow; one that coated everything which it touched.

Outside, as I stood looking toward the east, I watched and waited for the sun to rise. At first the edge of the horizon was painted with dull reds and purples. As my anticipation rose, so did the sun. The colors began to change and now included orange and yellow; their intensity growing. The same colors painted the tips of the trees. As the sun continued its upward crawl the intensifying colors began to drip downward now coloring the length of those same trees. The crystals of snow covering nearby branches glistened like diamonds; the entire area now bathed in the warm glow of the rising sun.

Minutes later, as the sun continued its climb, as if on cue, clouds began to change the color of the sky from blue to grey. The warm colors receding as if they had been washed away like a gentle rain were now being replaced by a blanket of grey. As the clouds continued their growth, the diamonds on the surface of the snow began to lose its luster and now appeared to be just a blanket of white covering everything.

As time continued to pass, I returned to my duties of clearing the walk. The sound of my snow shovel scraping the ground the only other noise to be heard. As I rejoiced in the rhythmic sound made by the shovel, the silence was broken by the roar of a snow thrower coming to life. As that unwelcome sound increased, my desire to retreat back into my house also increased; needing to escape the previous tranquility.

Namaste

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