We had a surprising accumulation of snow this past Sunday. It was my favourite kind of snowfall–big flakes that come down steadily but without driving or blinding; the perfect kind of silent snowing that you see in picturesque scenes in movies–and it stuck around for days in an unusual stillness of weather.
The following morning, I saw the dawn light pinking the tops of the trees and I knew I had to get out to our big local park to see some of the magic as it unfolded.
By the time I got there the sun was up fully, so no more tinge of added colour to the landscape, but there were still some gorgeous sights to enjoy.
It was made even more special by how quiet it was.
Very serene.
I passed five or six people in total on the walk, and with the exception of one couple talking, and the crunching of snow under boots, everything was very quiet.
Oh, and also except for the few dozen Canadian geese in the marina. They were chattering a lot, as they do, and causing quite a honking fuss when some of them took to the air a handful at a time. But they’re known to be jerks, so it wasn’t surprising.
It was time away from other tasks I needed to do.
Time I stole for myself, that I had to make up for later.
And it was worth every second.
