After a snowstorm, it is like walking on another planet. The sounds are varied…I don’t need my earbuds…the winter air provides a concert. Hearing the muffled sound walking through fresh powdery snow …30 cm or more. Along the way you hear a flop and look around to see the weight of the snow on pine tree, flop, flop falling to the ground.
Hearing a crunchy sound on spongy snowy surface…makes you want to stop…when my children were little, I would lie on my back on the snow and wave my outstretched arms…we had made our first snow angels on this soft fluffy snow.
If it is warmer weather, the snow will be sticky and heavy…wonderful time to make a snowman or two or nice big fort!
Last winter we had such bitter cold days, not that much snow…well, for our standards in Quebec but the cold…brrrrr… the loud echoes of crunch crunch when walking is so vivid…I love that sound walking home late at night. It keeps me company walking alone. Wrapped in layers starting with cotton long johns, gloves covered with mitts, lamb lined boots, topped with duvet lined coat, my pilot hat, over a ski mask the air too cold to breath, cheeks prickling from the biting cold. Greeting other pedestrians and we can only see each other’s eyes, masked for warmth.
Of course I cannot, not mention, the unnatural sound but still, the sound that lulls me to sleep or puts me in a mellow mood, the concerto of snow plows part of the night across the street from my home is a huge shopping mall. And then the thundering boom of the road snow ploughs clearing the roads for morning traffic.
ice draped branches
shimmer with radiant glow
moonbeams
crunch echoes in biting cold
warm breath forms cloud puffs
whiff of burning pine
recalling romantic evenings
roar of busy ploughs
(c) Tournesol ’14
Tournesol dans un Jardin 