Winter Quiet

I love winter. Well, I love 2 weeks of winter in the middle of the mountains with no commitments. After 9 1/2 years of living in a place where it never snows or drops below 40 degrees, I have come to LOVE the end of December when I spend time in the mountains in Tahoe and in Idaho. The snow, the fireplace, the sled hill, the ski hill, the icicles outside my window, snow boots, winter hats, scarves, wool coats, Smart Wool socks, sitting in the hot tube with snow falling, pink sunsets and alpine glow, tired legs from skiing, bright beautiful days when the sun shines and reflects off the snow, the lake freezing, lying on the couch watching the snow fall, snow covered streets, short days and the quiet. Oh the quiet.

I love the stillness that settles over everything in the dead of winter in the mountains, especially right after a snowfall. The whole world stops for a bit and all sounds are muted. I love that the year ends during this time. There's a forced slowness that fosters reflection. This year I picked up running again, so much so that I wanted to run while I was at my parent's for Christmas. I've never run in snow. Or in temperatures less than 40 when I'm at 5,000 feet above sea level. I had to run much slower than I am used to and I had to take more breaks. But when I stopped, all I could hear was my breathing, and I felt like I was the only living thing for miles. I couldn't help but be grateful for the moment--to be have legs to run on, lungs to breath air in and out, eyes to look out on a place of such incredible beauty, and few years of life behind me to help me understand just what a gift this moment was. The vast expanse of snow covered fields and mountains also reminded me of grace--I didn't earn my way here.

This wasn't the first year that I've walked or snowshoed on these paths around the golf course. But it was the first year when I didn't take the mountains for granted. The longer I live away from Idaho, the more I see the beauty in the places where I spent my childhood. I live in a picturesque city and I've stayed in part because of the incredible landscapes that are in Northern California. But there's a certain beauty in the Idaho mountains that is different. They're not as majestic as the Rockies or the Sierra's, but the wide open sky and the vast unadulterated forests get me every time. Most of the world doesn't know about these mountains. As one of my friends said recently, Idaho is one of those places that people forget about it. That's also part of it's beauty. It's hidden away, with it's two lane highways, unpaved farm roads, untracked snow -- quiet beauty.

The mountains are a deep part of who I am and I will always be grateful for how they force me to slow down, reflect, and remember that what I have is a blessing, a gift of grace.