It has been a long few months at work, and the finish line for December is akin to the finish line at the Kentucky Derby on a rainy, muddy track. As if that's not pressure enough, our weather as of late has been uncooperative, with storms of rain and ice so bad that we lose power and school time.
This Christmas is beset with pre-holiday ice, sleet, freezing rain, and storms, followed immediately by a decent snowfall that interrupts Christmas Day travel and plans. The Christmas Day snow stops falling around noontime, though, and the sun breaks through shortly thereafter.
After the Christmas morning hoopla of breakfast and presents, we have lasagna for lunch, and I send my children on their way to work or to the home of a significant other. I have one more errand before the sun starts to set, and I watch the clock the entire time because there's something I want to do today, one thing I have never had the chance to do before and may never again.
I want to snowshoe in the Christmas Day snow.
By the time I break free for the afternoon, it is after 3:30, and the sun skews across the sky. Trees are caked in ice and snow, so I need to calculate where I'll snowshoe and remain safe by myself. There's a short trail through the woods near my neighborhood, but I am concerned about falling tree limbs. Wide open spaces are somewhat boring but safe.
I opt for one of the cemeteries near my house. It has some trees, some open space, and is sloped with some challenging areas. I also want to see if it connects to the trail (it doesn't). I spend an hour snowshoeing up and down and around, taking pictures, and enjoying the crisp air and absolute solitude. The Christmas Solitude.
I love my family and I love my friends, but this gift of an hour of quiet snow and beauty is exactly what I need after the frantic finish at work and the mad rush to get people where they need to be while clearing the snow from the storm. The fact that it's Christmas snow just makes it more special. Now I'm home, candles lit, decorations on, tree lights shining, and my Christmas is complete ... and completely perfect.
