Frozen: A Lesson Learned From All The Ice and Snow

I have heard it repeated numerous times – this winter has been absolutely horrible.  It has been extremely cold, the snow just won’t stop falling and the ice just clings to everything making the roads everywhere hazardous.  Schools have used up their allotted snow days and teachers and students are looking at either no spring break or an extended school year.  Joints have been taxed and muscles pulled from an endless amount of shoveling.  Black, ugly and unappealing snow lines streets and playgrounds where plows have pushed it, trying repeatedly to make room for more. Businesses are losing money from a combination of staying closed on the snowiest of days and because patrons rather stay warm and dry in their homes.  Venturing out for a slice of pizza or to buy a new outfit seems overly adventurous and daring when compared to a relaxing afternoon by the fire curled up with a good book.  Heating costs are up which means less disposable income.  In short, this winter has been extremely miserable for so many people that spring simply cannot arrive fast enough.  But just because the greater landscape looks cold and dreary doesn’t mean we aren’t surrounded by beauty.  Sure, we have to look for, which might mean crawling around in the snow or squinting against the sun, but it is there if only we take a moment to look beyond the bleakness, the dirt splattered snow and icy streets we keep slipping on. 

Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the little things either had I not on a whim one day picked up my camera and started taking pictures again – pictures of something other than my son.  But with camera in hand, I was focused only on finding something worthy of shooting, and suddenly the world around me was transformed.  I noticed tiny icicles buried in bushes that I had blindly walked passed numerous times before.  I observed tiny droplets of water, melting ice, on plants.  I was drawn to small pine cones surrounded by frozen pine needles. And I listened as the ice around me melted, dripped and refroze.  When the snow came again, I went for a walk and enjoyed watching the way the landscape redesigned itself.  Broken fences suddenly looked picturesque.  The brown snow temporarily disappeared beneath a fresh clean blanket.  And man-made objects such as mailboxes, signs and even parked cars were momentarily reclaimed by nature as she spared nothing in her quest to quiet the earth.

Perhaps, for me, there is a lesson in all this ice and snow.  The year has not been a good one and when I look at the big picture, the general landscape of life, I see lots of darkness, dreary roads and disappointments.  Sure friends have been telling me to look at the happy moments, the good things but when you are bogged down by all the things that aren’t going well, it is hard to see, recognize and appreciate the small things that are going well.  And now, scrolling through my ice and snow shots, I realize that this is what I must do in life.  I need not focus on the fact that sidewalks are an ice trap, the fact that my son’s school year might be extended or the fact that I have to dig out my car again.  I need to look for and appreciate the icicles hidden from view, the green that survives despite the frost and I have to enjoy the first moments of each new snowfall before the community conspires to “clean it up”.