Seeing what's always there

A snowfall clothes the familiar world in a calm and equal white. Fresh snow colours the light of the world clean.

In snow, we perceive things with a new awareness. The fresh snap of cold on the cheeks and the snow-altered scents of air and plants evoke remembered winter childhoods. We feel reborn. Snow muffles feet and the sounds of cars, slows life to a pleasant walking pace.

In the special alertness brought on by the presence of snow, things normally overlooked are freshly apprehended as the world slows down.

Though I look daily at the maples outside my office window, especially when their leaves turn to beautiful autumn colours, it was only in yesterday's snow that I noticed the birds in these same trees. Two tiny chickadees were flitting between branches, shaking the snow playfully from their wings.

Snow also reveals animal tracks. When the back porch and garden are covered in uniform white, the tracks of wild creatures become visible. The raccoons who inhabit the adjoining woodland now reveal their habitual paths, and if coyotes cross the garden, we know it.

A neighbourhood cat leaves telltale tracks as well as tufts of orange fur on the front doormat, revealing where he sat borrowing warmth from the house. Our own kitty leaps and plays in the white stuff, and his paw prints make plain the paths of his habitual patrols.

This is the great virtue of snow: it make us to slow down and notice what is always there but rarely seen.