A Snowy Night

From last week's journal, and in honor of the snowfall tonight:

Well, I couldn't help myself.

While I was holed up one evening, the snow came. I didn't even realize it until I let the dog outside, and was surprised at the sight of a white lawn before me. I had just gotten out of the shower, so I reveled in the beautiful world as best I could from inside my warm window.

But then, around midnight, I wanted to see. I stuck my head out the window, hoping that a breath of the snow-fresh air and the sound of the stillness would be enough. But it wasn't. And that was when I couldn't help myself.

I pulled layers over my pajamas - a couple pairs of pants, a long skirt, a couple sweaters, scarf, socks, mittens, hat, hood, boots, and coat. Then out I went, as silent as a mouse, trying not to wake my sleeping house.

It's a magical world - a snowy night like this. I love a lot of things about snow. I like the cold, I like the white, I like the cleanness and the quietness. But while that is all well and good during a bright day, at night it takes on another dimension. At night, the clouds hang low and between the clouds and the snow, the light is reflected and refracted a hundred times over, until it seems almost as bright as day. Every light that happens to be shining, even just the moonlight somewhere above the clouds, dances over the snow like a million glittering stars. I just want to dance and twirl in it - in my lawn of diamonds. And the quietness, the stillness. It is as if the entire world has stopped, breathless, to watch the snow fall from the sky.

I turn my face upwards and close my eyes tightly, feeling the icy bits kissing my face and  brushing past me to the ground. I lay on the ground and look at the sky, look at the snow falling, and feel so small and insignificant in this great, grand world God has made. I listen to the stillness, the quietness. The only noise that breaks the silence is the water flowing in the creek behind our house. Always flowing, never stopping. Though mostly frozen over the surface, there are still openings to the rushing water underneath, throwing its babbling laughter through the holes so that everyone knows the creek still lives on.

The trees stand like tall sentries, dark and straight against the orange sky, each branch and twig outlined in shining diamonds. The ground is flat and continuous - one unbroken slate of beautiful white. Even things like grills and cars, toys and bikes left out become things of beauty when covered with snow.

So this is why I go out, why I run the risk of waking others up, why I get all dressed up to go in the cold - even in the middle of the night. It's this moment that I will remember for the next year, until the next snow fall.