An Agreeable Day

 

When I came to the cabin this week, I was hoping for spring but got blasted by winter. More 50-60 mph winds were whipping up the snow, forming small tornadoes, and obscuring the landscape in total white-outs, as if a giant hand was smearing the landscape in white.

In this wind and cold, with snow still piled high, not many animals were out. The only animals I saw were the chickarees (gray squirrels) and Stellar’s jays. The chickarees sprint across the snow as if it would collapse any minute, and I wonder how they know whether it’s safe. In soft snow, surely they would drown, while this tough snow, constructed of weeks of thawing and then freezing, with some additional blowing, can even hold me up.

I worked all morning and then went out into the blizzard, desperate for some exercise, after sitting and staring at my computer screen all morning. It felt like a full-force assault by the wind and snow, as I struggled with every step, especially on the icy parts of the road. It felt like nature was trying to shake me down, wanted to force me to crawl into a hole or behind a big boulder or under one of the dancing pines. To stand up to it felt like some act of courage or craziness. But there’s a beauty to it also, especially in the whirlpools of snow, which danced across the landscape like phantoms.

  That night, watching the flames in the wood-burning stove, I was happy to discover a kindred spirit. For almost a year now I’ve been reading from the journal entries of Henry David Thoreau, dipping into them while I’m at the cabin, letting myself read only a few pages per visit, as if they were treats, and if I ate too many, the pleasure would be gone too quickly.

On a January day, he writes:

“even in a bleak and, to most, cheerless day, like this, when a villager would be thinking of his inn, I come to myself, I once more feel. . .  that cold and solitude are friends of mine. . . .  I am aware that most of my neighbors would think it a hardship to be compelled to linger here one hour, especially this bleak day, and yet I receive this sweet and ineffable compensation for it. It is the most agreeable thing I do.”

On a day like yesterday, most sane people would stay inside, curl up with a good book or TV show. Yet being outside in the mountains, even in these strong and cold winds, is one of the most agreeable days I can have.

Comments

[shoney]

The splendid photos you took make it worth the while to venture outside--along with all the spiritual reasons. Well done.

[Priscilla]

You've conjured up the snowy blowy day with your words and photos! I can feel that icy wind tearing across the landscape. But what a lovely end, with Thoreau's peaceful words about the cold. I confess, I still prefer the good book in front of a fire!

[Melanie Mulhall]

Kathy,

Even in town, that wind was a humbling reminder of nature's power. To be at the cabin with it must have been like being alone in a ship on rough seas--terrifying and energizing, all at the same time.

I smiled at the thought of you reading Thoreau. He's an old friend of mine, too.

Melanie Mulhall

[Julene]

It's the contrast, I think, that satisfies me most. Going out in the cold and wind, bearing up under it, then returning to the luscious safety of home. I don't brave the elements often enough, although I used to. Your example encourages me to go out regardless of the day.

[Sally]

When I worked for the forest service and UAL all my jobs were outside and the amount of soul filling that I had working in all kinds of weather is not comparable. No one does this day after day unless they are forced to for some reason. As you said most sane people would stay inside. But there is something about this that brings so much to us. The survival of it all must fulfill a deep animal instinct that we no longer have to endure. It awakens something deep. I still hike in the rain and it makes being in my warm home a reward!!