The snow keeps falling in an endless sea of white. Tiny feathery flakes fall in slow motion, causing the minutes and hours to tick by slowly. Winter in all its glory grips the landscape in its icy grasp.

There is something rhythmic and pleasing to falling snow. The world is gentle. Silent. Peaceful. The creatures of the forest seek shelter and rest, waiting for the storm to pass so they can emerge from their dens.

The snowflakes increase in size, the size of peas. I catch them on my tongue. Bentley is covered in white.  

I usually love winter, but a few weeks ago, I said to Dave I’m done with winter. It has worn me down.

I become nostalgic, missing the days when a fresh snowfall was an excuse to go out and play with my children and celebrate winter’s bounty: skating on a frozen lake, racing down our driveway on toboggans, and building snowmen in the yard.

I spy an icicle on the side of my barn. My inner child seizes it and takes a hard, crunchy bite. It’s so brittle, it almost chips my weathered, withered teeth. The cold chunk melts in my mouth slowly as I savour the coolness on my throat and mouth. It’s so cold outside, when I take a second bite, the icy chunk sticks to my lips for a nanosecond.

The snow continues to fall and I realize I am fighting a lost cause. Better to embrace it.

As the saying goes, if you choose not to find joy in the snow, you will have less joy in your life, but still the same amount of snow.

Bentley our weatherforecaster, me catching snowflakes and the view from our back deck. Winter is one of the most peaceful and beautiful times on our lake.