I believe snowy days are a gift from heaven to joyfully catapult us out of our routine into something unexpected, plopping us down in the blessed, peaceful quiet of a new born world, whitened, muffled and slowed.

The children, as children naturally do, lead by example in their open-hearted joy and wonder at snowfall.

This past week in our little corner of the Ohio Valley, we received a thumper of a snowstorm, a foot and several inches more a few days later. We have not seen snow like this in years!

Imagining now and remembering from my own children. . . shouts of “It’s snowing! it’s snowing!!” as they run from window to window, “It’s snowing everywhere!!! Their parents, as adults do. . . quickly find and stuff them into jackets, hats, mittens and boots, sending them trundling out and, if they are lucky kids, parents trailing behind to catch the wonder.

Tongues out, faces up, eyes wide open, children shout and squeal for joy, catching snowflakes on their tongues and eyelashes.

Adults, many years older, smile and remember even if from a chair at the window. They too share in the wonder.

This past Saturday, as the big snowfall was really getting into gear, my husband and I pulled on our boots and enjoyed a long walk through woods and over fields. This was a sifting snow, not so great for snowmen and snowball fights, but gratefully easier for walking. As we headed out into the snow, about 4 inches deep and falling fast, a world transforming and so very beautiful, familiar landmarks softened and beginning to disappear.

An appearing gift of fresh snow is the ability to see more clearly the tracks left by animals. My husband is expert at this! The concise hoof prints of deer, the occasional paw print of a domestic cat, and the feathery markings of birds and field mice. Our footfalls following for a distance the three point tracks of a rabbit till it veered off into the brush. At the little creek the distinctive paw print of a raccoon was clearly visible. It is a treasured glimpse into a secretive and mostly hidden world.

That evening we were generally making the first human footfalls in the snow, but we did see at points evidence of human companionship. “Look, they have a dog with them and from the look of the tracks not too far ahead!” I knew from looking back at our tracks someone coming behind would see a larger and smaller set of bootprints and, if they were noticing, the imprint of my trusty walking stick…though with snow falling fast, evidence that we ever passed that way would soon begin fading.

As the clouds parted, revealing the paler colors of a winter setting sun, we headed for home with our shadows casting long, invigorated by fresh cold air and restored by beauty.

Elizabeth (Schickel) Robinson has always lived in Loveland, married and raised a family here.Family, faith, service, community and creativity are most important to her. She is an artist driven to notice and bring beauty to others including creating commissioned works of art for hospitals and churches. She cares about our culture and wants to build opportunities for community and connection to God, each other and creation. She recently retired as a Registered Nurse at Cincinnati Children’s where she was privileged to care for patients and their families. She strives to live with her eyes wide open, seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary in life and nature that surrounds her.

At breakfast recently I asked my husband, do you know when to use the word who and when to use the word whom? He looked at me with just the slightest twinkle and said “well, the Barred Owl says “who” and the Great Horned Owl says “whom?” He continued, “we should be hearing the Great Horned Owls talking to each other soon, and pairs will be on the nest in another month or so.” Though we never got around to the grammar of when to use who and whom, this conversation formed a delightful picture in my mind and stirred a faint longing for spring, not long into winter.

Another event this time of year in Southwestern Ohio sends me dreaming about spring and gardening. The seed catalogues start arriving in the mail just when we really need them. In more recent years John tends the vegetable gardening and I concentrate on flowers. Hydrangeas have caught my fancy. Last winter, I was seduced by a catalog photo of a hydrangea bush that blooms white and then changes to pink with the name of “Pinky Winky.” When spring came I went hunting at a local garden store. A big, burly guy asked if he could help, and I explained what I was looking for. What did you call that hydrangea again he asked me?  “ Pinky Winky” I replied. Oh, thanks he replied…I just can’t bring myself to say that name!

I hope my dear Pinky Winky is everything my mind imagines it to be, and I look forward to its beauty this summer. It has taken the place of a Butterfly Bush that I lost to a past year’s hard winter. 

Currently I am musing on the old fashioned white Snowball hydrangeas. Might a few of these be happy in my garden?  I am easily bewitched by colorful photos of new varieties like Pinky Winky, but long experience with old flower friends reminds me of the enduring charms of tried and true varieties

My sister lives and gardens next door to me. As we are artistic types, I concur with her affectionate and fun dubbing of gardening as “slow performance art.” Every winter we compose extensive and expensive lists from perusing the seed catalogues. Slowly we pare our musings into something manageable and affordable.

This is a most pleasant pastime — to wile away winter hours dreaming of the possibilities of our spring and summer gardens!

Elizabeth (Schickel) Robinson has always lived in Loveland, married and raised a family here.

Family, faith, service, community and creativity are most important to her. She is an artist driven to notice and bring beauty to others including creating commissioned works of art for hospitals and churches. She cares about our culture and wants to build opportunities for community and connection to God, each other and creation. She recently retired as a Registered Nurse at Cincinnati Children’s where she was privileged to care for patients and their families. She strives to live with her eyes wide open, seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary in life and nature that surrounds her.