The Transformative Power Of Snow And Friendship

Waking To Sunday Morning Snow
Sunday Morning Snow

“A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.” – Author unknown

I thought we were done with winter. Daffodils began blooming in January. The star magnolias and tulip magnolias burst their buds this week and are in full flower. Migratory robins are dining daily on the worms that rain drives to the surface in my soggy back yard, and chickadees are already gathering sticks for their nests. Friday I walked the neighborhood in shirt sleeves, under long-awaited crystal blue skies.

Yesterday I awoke to snow showers, to saucer-sized flakes drifting past my upstairs window. Snow soon turned to another day of the gray, drizzly rain that is the hallmark of this winter, and I thought we were done with the excitement and beauty that snow promises in the South.

About five in the afternoon Charley ran downstairs to where I was practicing recorder. She rarely takes the stairs on her own, but the first flashes of lightning and rolling booms of thunder explained why she sought me out. She hates storms, and usually predicts their arrival several minutes before I am aware of a change in the weather.

With another explosion of lightning and thunder, snow poured out of the sky. An hour later an inch clung to the fence posts and daffodils. By the end of the storm there was almost three inches covering the ground and outlining each tree branch.

This morning I awoke to a crystalline wonderland. The morning sun lit the top branches of the crape myrtle and cedar, making them sparkle with fairy dust. My back yard was transformed from mud and mire to a white canvas that captured the beauty of the snowy night.

The mud and mire of my heart’s distress is also transformed by the comments and emails I received in response to my post The Yawning Gulf Between Where I Am And Where I Want To Be. You helped me regain both perspective and faith that sight-reading skills do not make one a musician, and that I am a musician whether I ever sight-read another note. You helped me remember what I have accomplished with the harp, and helped me refocus on what I can do instead of seeing only what is still beyond where I am today. You assured me that I will find my way back to the joy that is Music. You held onto the song in my heart when I could not hear it, and sang it back to me when I needed it most. Thank you for your caring, your kindness and your support, and for being my companions on this journey.

 

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15 thoughts on “The Transformative Power Of Snow And Friendship

  1. Here spring is yet far away, but it will come surely. Every morning we look at newspaper at what time sun rises and sets. Every morning we see that nights are shorter. This is one way wait for spring – concretely.

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    1. I do the same thing – noticing particularly that the sun sets later each evening. Now I can drive home from my yoga class without putting the car headlights on. In December it was pitch dark when class was over. It is so comforting to me to see the light return!

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  2. Such a beautiful picture! 🙂 On the opposite end of things, I just planted my garden for this year. Vegetable and flower seeds are nesting in fresh soil. Spring is almost here for you, too.

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    1. Normally I would at least have peas in the ground by now, and some lettuce and spinach, but the rains are unceasing, and even my raised beds are far too wet to dig into. So this winter is just going to be a little longer than some, on many levels. But you are right -spring will come!!!!

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  3. Spring will come, it always does. Someday soon you’ll be amid the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees…sitting in the warm sunshine and all this horrible wintery chill will be a dim memory.
    I know that the flowers of early spring can take a good snow and freezing temps and just pop back up…thank the “gods” of evolution for that.
    For what it’s worth; you are like a breath of Spring to me! 🙂

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    1. And it is good to be reminded that out of the muck and mire comes life and growth, for the flowers, and for me, too. And being reminded that this hard time will pass and become but a memory helps too!

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