I am in awe. Looking out my studio window I see a one story tall icicle hanging from my neighbor’s house. She asked me over the weekend to help her knock it down but the only real solution we came up with was to throw something at it. Our aim isn’t that great, so we decided to let it be. Looking past the icicle I see huge piles of dirty snow that extend into the street, narrowing the already slim passageway.
It’s easy to look around the spectacular sight of this icicle and see the mounds of snow and think of what a hassle this next snow storm is going to be. I live in an area that has been hammered by the winter weather and people here are getting weary of it. I know I am. But I am also keenly aware that I am too bogged down in the practical tasks the snow entails to see the beauty of it. How will I get to work? Do I have enough gas in the car? Don’t forget to take a shovel to work, they always plow us in. Who will shovel the driveway? Where the heck are we even going to put more snow? I need new boots and I hate my coat and I am tired of wearing all these layers. Arrgh. I can’t see the forest for the trees.
But what about this? The sight of that massive icicle. The muffling effect that the snow has on everyday noise. Bird nests now visible in the bare trees. The bright yellow and blue of my deck chairs just barely poking through the stark white. The wonder of snow piled as tall as a house. Fields laid to rest for the winter and now covered with a perfect blanket of snow as far as the eye can see. The barely audible sound of snow falling.
I am going to try to see the snow through the eyes of a child, for they can see the wonder in all of this without all the worries of an adult. Yes, it is all a tremendous pain-but it is also spectacularly beautiful and I commit to training my eyes on the beauty.