Entry 7: This New Tundra

 Today I went out to the clearing and there was just a dusting of snow all over the ground, on the trees, on the car; everywhere. The kind of snow that is still transparent in that it looks like the icing on top of a crackled oatmeal cookie (if oatmeal cookies were kinda green). It seems as though the temperature outside had been “70 degree t-shirt weather” only a week ago and now already I was bundled up in thick socks and boots, my most obnoxiously big winter coat, and a scarf that makes my head look like I'm trying to burrow down into it. It kind of made me think what the rest of winter is going to be like, and wonder if it’s always this cold. I don’t know why the cold and the first really noticeable snow (I don’t count that freak accident snow that happened two or three weeks ago because it melted the very next day and was fine) seemed to be the coldest start to winter I had ever experienced. Maybe this was the first year I had actually noticed the changes and the first year I had taken time to “spend time with” each stage in the progression of the seasons. There wasn't even enough snow on the ground to make really tracks as my footprints just kind of melted or messed up the snow nor was there enough snow to crunch under my feet. In years past when the first big snow comes I snap into little kid mode, and get really into it. The air was very still, and very quiet.

            The walls on either side of the path today were practically nonexistent. In the summer I can’t see anything once I’m in there except what’s in the paths/clearings (probably because I’m so short). But now that the snow’s here and the walls have been broken down, I could see forever into my little biosphere. Deep down into the path, which usually feels like such a secretive place, I could still see my house. I could almost see the clearing from the opposite side. It was a little less fun. Usually people are looking to tear down the walls and get to “the other side” weather literally or metaphorically. But I was content on “my side of the fence” when I had my high goldenrod walls and my lush green floor. The grass was greener on my side and I had been so suddenly and unwillingly shoved to the other side. Maybe, probably, eventually, I’ll come to love this new tundra.