When I was a kid, I collected snow globes.
I don’t remember what the catalyst for the collection was—perhaps it was a yearning for snow brought about by its lack in my hometown of Los Angeles—but I do remember scanning the shelves of souvenir shops from San Francisco to New York City, in search of the keepsakes.
As I stood atop my tippy toes, my little hands would reach for the delicate glass dome placed atop a perfect world, and shake it, swirling around the morsels of magic suspended in water. Then, my hands would still, and I would watch as the glittery specks drifted down to dust the top of minuscule skylines.
For a moment, all there was to do was sit in stillness and watch in wonder.
As a winter storm brought snow to Patina Meadow last week, I felt like I was one of the figurines that adorned the insulated environments I kept on my shelf as a child.
I watched as a white blanket draped itself over the landscape. It covered rooftops…
treetops…
and sheep tops…
until the world looked like it was only painted with shades of grey and white, against the canvas of a barely blue sky.
Like me, our animals took advantage of the day to rest.
Though a few of them ventured into the great white expanse, most stayed within the cozy comfort of the barn, snuggling up with one another beneath the straw and only emerging to ensure that the grass was still too covered to nibble.
In the forest, its peace was amplified, as the snowfall quieted the countryside.
The only sounds that broke through the soundproofing were the crunch of my boot as it fell upon it, and the sweet calls of little birds that fluttered from branch to branch.
Though the creek still meandered beneath the canopy of trees, its pace felt slower.
The drops of spring water that, in temperatures above freezing, would have quickly fallen away to feed the flow, now held on for a little longer, adorning exposed rock with glittering icicles. I like to imagine that both the water and rock enjoyed this opportunity to spend time with one another, a luxury they don't often experience in the rush to bring life to what lies downstream.
Over the next few days, the snow began to melt. Water ran off the rooflines, branches became bare once again as they lost their glittering adornment, the ground returned to the green, brown hue of winter dormancy. Life resumed its forward march, and I along with it, speeding past the same sights that stopped me in my tracks days ago.
Perhaps that's why I found myself drawn to those snow globes, and why I cherish when my world feels like one.
Because they slow me down and show me that sometimes the best thing to do is sit in stillness and watch in wonder.
Love,
Leila
