Soft As The Falling Snow

It’s soft and light on my shovel, easy to push and toss aside.  There’s about five inches of snow on the ground now.  Jon and I just came in from shoveling paths and cleaning off the cars.

The snow is falling straight and even, without wind to create drifts, so I’ll go out again in a couple of hours to try to keep up with it.  Between the front and backyards and barnyard we have plenty of paths to keep clear and it’s easier to shovel five inches of snow at a time than ten inches at once.

There’s a quiet that comes with this kind of snow.  The air is so busy, congested with snowflakes soundlessly bumping into and landing on top of each other.  They should be making a racket.

And all that movement somehow seems to bring a stillness too. Again, it doesn’t make sense, but the donkeys and sheep stand contentedly in the polebarn, the chickens go dormant in the roost, and inside the house, the dogs are calm.

Zinnia is so quiet in Jon’s office I can hear the clicking of Jon’s fingers on his keyboard.  Along with the comforting ticking of the woodstoves, there’s the satisfying sound of Fate chewing a bone at my feet and Bud snoring on the couch.

I hear the plow truck on Route 22 before I see the flashing lights in the window, but otherwise, the road is silent.

It’s only 6pm but it feels like 3am.   Like most of the people for miles around are asleep. I feel that way too, quiet and gentle inside, as soft as the falling snow.