Snow

Yesterday was another Snow day for the coast of Maine. A rare thing actually. That big body of water out there can keep things along it's shores warm enough for storms to bring rain verses snow. But this was our second (or third?) big dump of the most beautiful light snow. And in order for the snow to stay light and fluffy it must stay cold and dry. Which it has been .. very cold and dry. The XC skiing has been grand. But this extremely cold temperature turns packed snow into something hard and squeaky. As a good friend said this past weekend, when she and I ventured out in 5 degree weather, "it's like skiing on styrofoam". This was a perfect description!

There are some amazing places to go to ski within a couple miles from my house when the snow is like this. The ski mobile trails in Maine are actually a huge system that, if you have the gas and the time, could probably get you from southern Maine to the furthest townships up north. And those trails are easily accessed from my house. There's also golf courses that don't mind having kids sledding and skiers gliding over their hills and dales. A lot of options for getting out there and disappearing if I want to go.

Yesterday morning I wanted to go. Before the snow got too heavy and the roads too treacherous, I rallied with Ella (my little 4-legged pal) and went out to ski through the woods to the local golf course where there are ski mobile trails that make it easier for my little 10-year old girl to run along instead of porpoise through deep snow. It was beautiful out there. I've mentioned many times the pewter gray of sky and sea that simply intrigues and delights me. I love vibrant, golden sunsets and astounding fuchia sunrises too; but the steel gray of the sky and a landscape that is pristine and white is so stark, so clean in it's dichromatic display that I find myself just stopping and breathing it all in.

I was the only one out there in the storm. All alone as the snow fell and covered my tracks. All alone with just my thoughts which of course were with Jim. He would have been out there with me, delighting in the falling snow and the joy of his body working to push the skis through the trail. Over the years there were so many countless moments of he and I out there loving what we were doing for ourselves and with each other. Two people so in synch, the best of friends to each other and deeply in love.

All alone is too complete these days; too deep and stark. Too monochromatic .... gray.

Later in the afternoon I walked down to the end of the street and the town landing dock. My footprints were the only ones out there as the snow continued to fall. Street lights were just starting to come on in the crepuscular dimness. At the end of the dock I could look straight down into the undulating green-gray waters and see each individual snowflake falling. I could hear a few ducks on the shore babbling with each other and a bell buoy in the distance softly ringing as it swayed back and forth with the ocean's swells. I added a few salty tears to that vast ocean and wished Jim well before I trudged back up the hill to my cozy little home.

Loving you all back,

Mary