A Winter's Whisper
It’s almost March, and my hope of feeling the snow this winter had nearly faded.
Yet, since yesterday, a pristine white blanket has covered the world, as if nature itself needed a reminder of how winter should trully be. The first proper snow in years began as a delicate whisper, but quickly transformed into a beautiful, relentless storm.
Each flake, caught in the wind, is swirling and twirling, filling every nook and cranny with its embrace. Part of the lake lies frozen, and the ducks, once lively and vibrant, now float aimlessly, muffled by the cold.
The storm has paused time, transforming the familiar into a canvas of white uniformity. The world outside my window is now a monochrome masterpiece, where every contour is softened, and every sound is muted, as if the earth itself is holding its breath.
Yet, defiantly clinging to their branches, the red berries stand proud against the snow’s embrace, offering shelter and food to the birds that still dare to roam. They are a testament to resilience, a reminder that life finds a way, even in the coldest of seasons.
As I wander through this landscape, I am struck by a profound sense of loss.
The climate crisis has rendered such winters increasingly rare, and with each flake that falls, I feel the weight of what we stand to lose. As the storm rages on, I embrace this moment as a reminder to cherish the beauty around us, before it slips away beneath the weight of change.
Until next time,
Leonard