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snow looks so beautiful
i wanna experience it
though i bet it will never compare to the beauty of experiencing the friendship of the wonderful people i have met on this site
snow looks so beautiful
i wanna experience it
though i bet it will never compare to the beauty of experiencing the friendship of the wonderful people i have met on this site
Cal, how I wish I could give you snow. It would pale in light of what you bring to this thread. Good to see you on here.
I would love to experience snow someday,it sure looks beautiful.
I guess having never been in the cold slushy snow,I can appreciate its beauty.
There is an art to snow, a poetry, emotions... God creating art on the face of the earth. Food for thought as to the events of the seasons and our lives... I love the snow, and I also despise it at the same time... Snow is peace and hardship, beauty and ugliness rolled into one... Snow is fun! But, snow is also sad... Snow can bring out the best and also the worst in us...
MY greatest joy was waking up early before anyone else had a chance to make tracks in the snow. I used to wait until the crack of dawn and sneak out on the porch.
Across the road and to the left , on a small hill, was an old weathered grey barn, that my great grandpa had built and it had the barbed wire fence and wooden fence post. The background was a large hill and to the right a patch of pine trees and a creek below. The creek ran in front of my house and there was a one lane bridge, directly in front of it.
It was such a site to see the rocks in the creek extra large from the snow that mounded atop them and spilled over into the small creek. I was always amazed how the snow could pile so how on those little barbs without spilling over or how the tree branches swayed so close to the ground, covered in snow, but under the tree it would be so cave like, soft and dry, a perfect place to sit, a carpet of pine needles and the smell was perfect. The beauty of it was breath taking. Nothing else can quiet the sounds of the earth like a blanket of snow, even the creek was quite on those mornings.
Thanks for talking about the snow and posting the pictures.This is one of my fondest childhood memories. My mom still lives there and some winters she sends me a picture of the same barn that I am talking about, although it is in disrepair now. mmm the good memories...
OLD TRAPPER’S CABIN
Written by Jan Bolinger
(To be read as if written by a young boy as a grown man)
As the winds begin to blow the cold air in from the high country, I begin feeling a familiar stirring in my spirit. Every year when I was young, my dad would take me to a cabin where his father had taken him when he just a boy. His father before him had built this simple wood cabin high up in the mountain area where he would spend the winters trapping which helped supply provisions for his family for the next year. Fur brought a good price then. The streams provided ample fish which, along with the provisions he took from his home town, kept him adequately nourished.
The first time my father took me on this adventure, I could not sleep the night before. I was too anticipatory of the adventures to come. I remember seeing a photograph of my great grandfather as a man of considerable years. He had a scar across his face. It frightened me as a child, hearing how that scar came into being. I would study that face and remembering the stories I had been told, tried to imagine what he might have felt going through that experience and living.
It was a long trek up into the mountains and my father had tried to prepare me for the difference in the air, the thinness of what would go into my lungs. He spoke about the quiet. I tried to grasp the fullness of what he told me yet I was not prepared for the intensity of the quiet. No radio, no phone calls, no sound of cars passing by, just the wind, the sounds of those whose land we had invaded, and the sound of myself just breathing. Full of youthful energy, I could not take in the enormity of this adventure in just one trip. It would be followed by many trips; each year, filled with more wonderment than the one before.
Each day was filled with tasks that if not completed, would work a hardship on both my father and myself. My face burned from the stinging northern winds, the snow blowing felt like tiny BB’s hitting me. Hands became weathered in short time and I matured in ways I wish all boys could. A great responsibility was on a young boy’s shoulders. We cut wood for the fire, set traps, checked existing traps, fished for our dinner, secured the cabin against predators or intruders. When the snow blew in high and hard, it meant time spent inside for days but provided fresh water to drink when melted over the fire.
I left on that first trip, a young boy full of himself. The hard work built muscles in my arms and chest and I saw myself develop that one winter from a young boy, into a youth of substance. I learned responsibility the hard way. One time not doing what was asked of me caused us to go without food for two days and nights. Dad said nothing and the quietness of that could be felt down so deep inside of me, I thought I might die.
It amazes me still of what God provides through nature to sustain us physically, spiritually and mentally. The fast pace lives we live cheat us of so much. That cold air blowing in from the high country is my call to take my son on the adventure of his life to the old trapper’s cabin built so many years ago. My hope is that my son will gain from his experience enough to build in him the knowledge of how to exist in the quiet, how to allow God to provide when things look bleak and to give him the confidence in himself to know he can be successful in anything he chooses to do. I also hope he continues our tradition of going home to the “Old Trapper’s Cabin” when he hears the call of cold High Country air whispering in his ear.
Written to go with my pencil drawing of “Old Trapper’s Cabin”.
I may have posted the drawing earlier in the thread. If so, I apologize for repeating it but thought of it as we are sharing about snow. I love snow. It covers the earth in the purity of white and covers the darkness of winter with light.
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