Last year stunk for snow shoe conditions, I don’t think I got out at all, so I was all the more eager to go when the snow started piling up this weekend. Hannah popped upstairs late this morning and suggested that I take off; I didn’t let the door hit me on the way out. I might have been premature as conditions were less than ideal, but was loathe to dismiss the opportunity.
We have trails right behind our house, easing my access so that I can literally walk outside and go. Abbi was just as eager as I was, and if possible, she took an even greater enjoyment out of it than I did.
Pictures don’t do it justice. The solitude and peace of being in the woods in the snow is palpable. The white coating over everything insulates noise, smell and sight, making for an idyllic kind of quiet that is nearly impossible to obtain in any other setting.
I found myself longing to become lost in it, and fell down into the downy fluff in surrender to it. An angel or five later, the exploration resumed. Though I’ve tromped these trails hundreds of times in the 15 years we’ve lived here, each season, and even day by day there are new discoveries to be made, and it was with sheer delight that I did so.
The wind kicked up momentarily, showering me in clouds of snow displaced from the trees above. I found myself reaching for my phone to catch a picture, but instead I paused to tune into my senses and savor the moment. I’m a bit sorry I can’t share it with you, but wouldn’t trade the otherworldly moment for a photo.
Yes, snow shoeing is a workout, and according to my Fitbit, a darn good one, but it’s greater purpose is the restoration of my soul that the abject solitude grants, the physical benefits are just for show.