Although the first flakes of snow fell some time ago, the first real snow storm of the season, a Noreaster, blew through the night before Thanksgiving. We went to bed thinking about how we could slice and cook our 23-pound turkey on the grill if the power went out. It didn't, and we had a lovely meal with a small group of friends the next day.
In spite of the hazzards that come with snow, I enjoy the first weeks of its arrival. By March I am longing for green, but for the three months of winter I enjoy the change in the landscape. Sounds hush, life slows, the sun shines with a clear intensity that reflects off of the white ground. The nights feel made for firelight, stories, and sleeping. I feel the tug of an ancient rhythm to slow down.
During the day my husband and I try to get out often in winter. My new favorite way to explore is by snowshoe, but we also cross country ski into the woods. Some of our favorite summer hikes are transformed into a new world by the snowy landscape. The trails are almost always empty. I love to pack thermoses with hot soup and coffee, which we then carry to an overlook, enjoying our meal with the glory of Maine stretched out in front of us. This painting is of the view from a trail at Wolfe's Neck Park. The land, generously donated by the Smith family (thank you!), is home to an osprey pair. We have also seen bald eagles near here. The walk is a favorite in all seasons, but there is something very special about a visit during winter.