February 1, 2015
I am sitting on a tree swing suspended by purple rope next to the frozen Hallockville pond. The wind is rushing through the tree branches high above me and blowing up whorls of snow flurries that have come to rest atop the pond. The sun is out and the sky is a crisp but warm blue with puffs of clouds gliding quickly over the tree and hilltops out of view. My page is wet from the blowing snowflakes and my glove damp from an earlier fall. The branches snap and creak. There are no bird calls. I am alone on a swing. This is exactly how I want it to be. The sun’s rays warm my face and causes the snow to sparkle and shine like the facets of a jewel. The wind and snow dance together as if in a performance just for me. I marvel at the individual flakes as they land on my gloves…so tiny…so glorious. I love them. This is my favorite thing about winter, the snowflakes.