Winter wanderings

Today, I had the opportunity to contemplate what nature has to offer from up high. I feel like musing a bit on that wonderful experience for a bit. That will be the only order of business today, so feel free to turn away if that doesn‘t interest you.

Good? Good.

At first, the ground and its concerns. But, looking up, time slowed to a crawl. The trees, standing tall. Taller still, the stone sentinels we called mountains. Even among them, some grizzled by age reached further still. But then, a blue horizon engulfed us, we intruded the realm of the clouds - the sky. Its majesty became only more apparent. Immense. Stern. Everlasting (to us). Sadly, at the time of our little excursion, we could not appreciate the valse of the stars. Yet, we were content with the sole performance of the pale winter sun. Even in this apparently fragile state, it radiates from an ethereal flame. Filling confidently the reach of our horizon with the calm hues of its warmth and strength. That day, clouds were distant sights. The air adds some indecipherable stillness only disturbed here and there by cool northern winds.

In this humble state, the heavens gave full stage to wonders underneath. A role eagerly filled in by a river. But river is a poor fit for it. Broader than any mountain in sight and stretching to the horizon. Its striking colour would match even the sky itself if it wasn‘t frozen solid. Yet, not quite a frozen waste. Subtly moving beneath snow and ice, its rumbling strength showed - only slumbering for the season. Neighbouring this icy path, peaks matched its solemn visage. Jagged, carved by time, wind and hardship. Yet, vast and eternal. Properly majestic even, each draped with a luxurious white cape of snow. Such mountains wrapped ourselves in silence speaking with the echoes of their centuries rather than defiling the still air with mere words.

Further inspection revealed that rock was not our only companion - trees kept their solemn watch even for our ungrateful eyes. Diminished faced to such wonders, but humble and contempt. But let‘s not underestimate their role. Their branches carried the wind, their roots embraced reality, their bark bridging earth and sky. Deliberately rid of their colourful leaves, they left winter to its true masters. Quiet, they hummed a soft lullaby in harmony with the spectacle. Resolute and patient. We knew they appreciated the moment as much as we did, knowing that other seasons would see them knighted.

In the end, our wonder was crowned by delicate snow. The river, the mountains and the trees all clung to it, knowing and cherishing its true value. Not only witnesses but arbiters of winter, these sculptors traced a delicate tapestry of grey and white, of glass and glow - all in a hushed fall. Without these children of a fortnight, the Nordic landscape would lose some innocence, some charm. But then, the sky gently asked our leave and we obliged… back to our mundanities.

And that is all. I appreciate that you took the time to slow down a bit with me. Here‘s hoping this was a refreshing moment for you in your ever busy life.

In any case, see you next time.