Tuesday, March 8, 2022

LONGING FOR SNOW -- by Jane Kelley

 My part of Wisconsin hasn't gotten much snow this winter. This is a hardship for people who love to ski and for people who make their living off of people who love to ski. I don't fall into either of those categories. But I have been longing for snow. 

After the leaves have fallen, the landscape turns brown. Intellectually I know that the roots are alive and when spring comes there will be plenty of green. But the dead stalks are sad reminders that nothing is growing now. In fact, there is a lot of death. 

Then the snow falls. And my view is transformed. 

Winter wonderlands are beautiful. But the blanket of snow does more than outline each delicate branch. It hushes the world. 

Here is my beach. You can see the large rocks that mark what used to be the shore where the waves would incessantly push against the sand. Sometimes with great storms. Sometimes with a gentle persistence. Always present.

In winter, those waves are under layers of snow and ice. There is quiet. Momentarily I feel at peace. 

The blanket of snow hasn't really changed anything except what I see on the surface. The jagged edges are still there. Even the waves still churn -- just farther away. 

Sometimes that blank white space is just what  I need. 

And then, there will be new beginnings. A few tracks lead me to something new.


Hmmm, I wonder. Who walked here? And what happened when their paths crossed? 


Jane Kelley is the author of many middle grade novels, none of which are set in the winter. Yet.






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