Right now I am cozy in a chair by a warm fireplace while snow is falling outside, glistening from the dim light of dusk. This relaxed comforting state reminds me of my recent weekend visiting Steamboat Lake. My friend Jenni is from Steamboat Springs and invited my boyfriend and me to join her on a weekend visit to her parent’s cabin. So Michael and I left the suburban and city-sprawl of Denver by lunch time on a Friday and began the beautiful drive along I-70. This highway has become so familiar to me thanks to countless visits to the southwest corner of Colorado and for fun-filled days of skiing at the winter resorts that this area is popular for. We passed the ski area of Loveland and the turn-offs for Arapahoe Basin and Breckenridge, which is where we exited I-70 and headed west on US-40. Although I had driven this route so many times before, I thrilled in the majestic Colorado scenery of towering mountains and cascading rivers. Even though it was early February, there wasn’t much snow on the ground until we came out on the other side of the Eisenhower Tunnel just before descending into the gorgeous valley that holds Silverthorne and Lake Dillon.
Have you ever touched a bare branch in winter?
Aware with eyes that it is naked of leaves
It’s emptiness at first appears cold and lonely
Yet I’m not hesitant to feel it in my fingertips
The crisp barren cold is not most apparent
It does not chill my blood at my skin to tree touch
Instead there is awareness that life is still flowing
That energy is there in that bare branch even rough
Regardless of me and my perception
Not bothering to appear any other way than what it is
The empty tree branches in winter touch me
With the beauty of life flowing even when unseen
I love to think of how it ebbs within those little branches
Stemming from far down into the roots
They spread out alive below the frozen surface of soil
They pulse of continuing energy that runs true
How precious and energetic is that hidden glow
So amazing and miraculous that every second it flows
And even though in seasons the external appears dormant
It is still full of life flowing, I feel it so
Being aware of my joyous energy
In my touch and feelings and growth.
It comes to me as images in my head…
The colors are there, the feelings and even the smells.
I see white fluffy flakes, floating down from the sky,
A sky of slate-grey that fades into white,
Disappearing into snow-covered mountains, graced with dark green tree lines.
Scents in the air of pine and fragrant brewed coffee,
Feelings of bundled warmth, cozy socked feet,
Curled up with knees nuzzled and tucked under my hoodie,
Paired with fresh crisp cold, dry against my cheeks.
Yet it is the falling snow that to me is most poignant,
A memory so beautiful I love to remember,
How it looks, how it feels, the things it welcomes in for me.
Have you ever sat and watched the snow fall?
Have you felt it hit your cheeks, dazzle on your hair,
And melt into your uplifted eyelashes?
It can be the tiniest of delicate white ice,
Clear crystals just big enough to see as it shimmers down.
It can be in clumps of soft fragile white,
Filling the air like blown dandelion tendrils.
Even though I do not have it yet, even though I am far away,
I love remembering lovely snow and how I love it falling,
And it welcomes in the pristine lovely winter season for me.