Anticipation. That’s how I was feeling. Like a young child on Christmas morning; anxious to see the tree all decorated, the lights twinkling, the ornaments sparking, the presents shimmering. But it wasn’t Christmas I was anticipating; it was the first snow of the season. As long as I can remember, I have always looked forward to the first snow with much hope. To see everything covered in that twinkling, sparking, shimmering coat of white.
That was how I was feeling last night, and how I awoke early this morning. The forecasts were at first sure there would be some snow at our elevation, but as the time was drawing near, the predictions were changing; and the changes were not in my favor. So when I got up this morning to looked outside I was prepared although still very disappointed to see that there was no snow on the ground; no white blanket of quiet beauty to behold. A few flakes had fallen during the night and clung with stubborn pride to the cold metal surfaces of my truck. I donned my slippers and stepped out to view the smattering of fluffy frozen water. A sad, melancholy smile played on my mouth; oh what you could have been if the temperatures had dropped earlier and faster, before the moisture had abandoned the region.
Still, I went back inside to change into more appropriate clothing to take a gander around the property: long johns, jeans, two pair of socks, a sweater, hoodie, scarf, hat, gloves, coat, and boots. It wasn’t bitter cold out yet, but I didn’t want to take any chances of not being able to enjoy the scenery.
I trudged up the driveway to take a first look at the pasture. It’s lowest part is the lowest point of the property. As I looked out across the expanse of dried grass I could discern frost all along the field. The doug firs and the blackberry bushes also had a hint of frozen dew upon their needles, leaves, and branches. The sun was hiding behind early morning fog so everything was cast in a sombre greyish hue. I walked onto the deck of the vacant mobile home. Looking out over the landscape from this vantage point gives one the feeling of being on the bow of a ship looking out on the vast expanse of ocean.
Slowly, a break came from the fog bank, and the sun began to peep through. At first it simply brightened the dull grey of the view plain to a brighter silvery sheen. Dew drops became more noticeable on the plant life. Then the sun cooked away the veil of mist and it’s golden, yellow glow burst forth shining its light across the landscape. The frost on the pasture shimmered like newly polished pearls, and the dew drops glistened brightly like diamond earrings. The lichen on the bare branches of the alder trees came to life with a silver green tint that appeared like the first buds of spring. A flock of black capped chickadees flitted along the ground and in the brush searching out any tasty morsel that might be lurking in the cold morning foliage.
Fog once again rolled up to obscure the sunlight. But patches of blue peeked out from the clouds of mist. Their light reflected off the frost creating a color scheme akin to silver bells. The color was bright but cold and I shivered in the light. Time to head back to the cabin where it’s warm and a hot cup of coffee awaits.
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This post is in response to the Weekly Writing Challenge – Snapshots
This week, I challenge you to mark your phone as off limits. Instead, the next time you reach to take a photograph, pull out your trusty notebook, open your favorite note-taking tool, or fire up the WordPress app. Rather than giving into the urge to take a picture, write down your impressions of the scene. Who’s around? How does the air feel? What sounds do you hear? What emotions are you experiencing?
Using words only, take a snapshot of the experience. We’re looking forward to reading your imaginative scenes, sans photographs!