Snow

Time to Slow Down

Winter forces us to slow down, whether we like it or not. We drive so much slower due to ice, snow, or fog. We must walk carefully to avoid slipping on the ice, or if the temperatures are mild, the endless mud. It takes effort, and discipline. We need to work harder to sustain what nurtures us.

Every year, like those stubborn dead leaves clinging to the branches of the trees, I resist. I resent the extra time it takes me to step out into my garden; to pull on my thermal vest, my hat, and to lace up my walking boots with some woolly socks. The hassle of having to use a headlamp when it’s dark at 4pm, especially when I forget to charge it. I’m frustrated by the need to mop my floor several times a day, to prevent muddy pawprints from decorating the rest of the house. Everyday tasks become slower, more deliberate, and I have time to contemplate if this task is worth all the effort. If so, why? And do I need to do it at all?

Sometimes the answer is yes. Like the extra time spent wiping down my dogs’ tummies and paws after a nice muddy walk down our field. Once I cease to resist, I can sink into the pleasure of being close to them. I sense their complete trust in me and feel a deep sense of gratitude for that connection. I can take time to inhale the scent of the earth on their paws and feel the freshness of the cold on their fur. This task is now a moment of the day I look forward to. I know a part of me will be sad to leave it behind.

Then there is all the extra work required to load up logs, and light fires, and close all the curtains when it feels like the day is still in full swing. Although these are not all tasks I undertake myself, I can see the amount of work that goes into chopping kindling and loading up logs when it’s blowing a gale or throwing it down with rain. Especially when my husband must sweep each individual log for spiders and insects before bringing them indoors (as much for my benefit as to protect the insects!)

But then there are those moments when I see the barn owl swooping through the twilight sky as I finish my working day. Or listen to the crackling fire. When I feel the warmth on my tingling hands after coming in from the cold. When I watch the shadows cast by the firelight dancing on the walls and time seems to slow down. Or when I get to enjoy a long evening with my dogs curled up by my side, them too basking in the heat of the fire, paws in the air, fully relaxed. The sunsets are beautiful this time of year. During the daylight hours there is something extra special about the light. All these moments make me think that winter might just be my favourite season of all. Once I accept that I need to work a little bit harder, I begin to appreciate winter for forcing me to slow down and pay attention.

On Sunday morning I opened my curtains to be greeted by this:

I proceeded to run around the house shouting “It’s snowing! It’s really snowing!”

Snow never fails to bring out the child in me and I spend the first few minutes of fresh snowfall gazing in awe at the sky. Yes, I know it’s simply water vapour freezing into ice crystals and falling to the ground, but to me it still feels like magic. My dogs dive out into the garden with great enthusiasm, ready to play with snowballs, or simply run around for the sheer joy of it. Although, I confess my senior Labrador Leo is not so much a fan these days, his arthritic paws do not thank him for it.

Then I had a brief moment of panic. Snow is not a common occurrence in my part of the country, being close to sea level. Did I have everything I might need? What if I had to get to the shops? Could I wear wellies in the snow? Or would my feet end up like those giant ice cubes we bought for our drinks over the festive period?

I pulled on an extra pair of socks, rummaged around for some extra thick gloves and stepped outside into Narnia. Everything else was forgotten. I took my time, walking slowly around the garden, taking it all in. Feeling cocooned by the muffled quiet. Admiring how everyday objects had been transformed into things of beauty. Enjoying the satisfying crunch as the snow compacted under my feet. I spent time looking for animal prints; to see if any of my night-time garden visitors, usually cloaked by the darkness, had left tell-tale signs of their presence. Then when I returned to the house, the dogs brought winter inside with them, glistening droplets of melted snow clinging to their fur.

Sadly, by the afternoon most of the snow had melted. I sought out the remaining patches here and there on my afternoon walk. The air felt so clean and revitalising that I did several extra laps of our field just to make the most of the time the snow had left.

Perhaps one of the reasons I appreciate snow is because it’s so fleeting. Or maybe the fact that it comes with a guarantee the pace of life will slow down. Who didn’t wish for snow so they could take an unexpected day off school? Snow often means we can take a break. When the world is blanketed in white and the sky is filled with cotton wool, there is a deep sense of quiet.

For those of us that might have been running at full speed towards our new year goals, this is a moment to pause. Doesn’t everyone take an extra moment to look out of the window when they see the first snow has fallen? Snowfall is nature whispering to us “slow down, not so fast, this isn’t a race. Stop and look around, the world you inhabit is beautiful.”

I’m sad the snow has melted already; I wish it could have stayed for a while. But nature will have more surprises around the corner, to remind me that every weather pattern, and every season, has its unique gifts.

How has winter encouraged you to slow down? And what has it made you appreciate?