Photo by takahiro taguchi on Unsplash

I travelled to the Northeast several winter’s ago to share joy with a friend who’s sister was having a baby shower. It was in January the dead of winter and the Northeastern hamlets were covered with blankets of snow. Beautiful pristine crystallized vistas met my gaze as we drove into her village. The air was crisp, refrigerated, but pure. The icy air cooled my airways and my lungs gratefully indulged in the clean cold air. As we walked to the front of our cottage where we were staying,  the snow crunched under our feet. Otherwise, there was silence. People were tucked away in their homes, working on keeping warm and cheerful. The promise of a new life  hovered above us.

The community was old and people didn’t usually move away. My friend and I were well into our fifties and she heralded me with stories as far back as baby music school that she and her friend that had attended. Her friend still lived in the village. Their parents were still there too. She had stories that filled the trip with history of her friends and their families. Who they were and how they came to live in the village.

After a quick dinner, we settled into a room on the top floor of the cottage. The cottage was made of beautiful wood from local Ash and Fir trees. All around the cottage was forest. A forest that would not give up and continued to thicken and thrive no matter what. To live in this forest required constant cutting back to maintain your small space amongst the giants. Outside our multi-paned window, lay an evening winter wonderland scene. The snow sparkled as rays of moonlight hit it’s surface. Giant trees cast shadows across the cottage and the landscape.

Photo by jurien huggins on Unsplash

I quickly dressed for bed in warm pajamas and climbed under a huge old comforter covered with a hand stitched quilt. I sunk my head into a soft pillow filled with down. The next thing I knew, light streamed in from the small window and was hitting my eyelids, it was morning. A gentle morning ray that cut across the gray winter sky and provided just enough illumination to establish it was daytime.

Photo by Ozgu Ozden on Unsplash

There were no sounds. Just quiet, stillness, my breathing. A sense of peace. It had snowed again during the night.  Fresh diamonds of ice glittered brightly across the landscape, bringing the promise of fresh water in the coming spring and new life.  I felt strangely at home. We bowed down to the cold; to it’s majesty and magic.