Driving In A Winter Wonderland

For years I either shoveled sidewalks, crosswalks, or plowed the streets of my adopted hometown, Kingston, New York. When I retired from that job in 1989 I still had to plow and shovel each storm, but at my own transfer stations. Year after year, the same old, same old. Cold snow, fierce winds, biting cold and soaking wet clothing. This is the first winter in the past 35 years that I haven't had to be out the door before waking up to plow snow. It is so nice! The constant task of snow removal clouded my vision and I really began to hate winter. All I saw was the "dam white stuff" piling up and taunting me with who'll break down first, the snow storm or me. Most of the time it was the equipment. And it was expensive!

While I'm still not happy about shoveling my driveway or sidewalk, it's not as big a deal as before. I don't have to do it before anything else. When it snows, the bus doesn't run. I stay home, get paid, entertain my granddaughter and shovel at my leisure. The last couple of storms didn't amount to anything so there was nothing to shovel and life was good.

This past weekend I had the chance to take a bus charter up into the heart of the Catskill Mountains to a remote place called Frost Valley. The name itself speaks volumes. I left home on Sunday Morning and really felt a tinge of spring in the air. The sun was out, the sky was blue and it was a gorgeous day. But as I drove further and further up into the mountains the splendor of winter began to appear. Subtle at first but gaining strength in each foot of elevation I climbed. Snow and ice were everywhere. Huge ice water falls hanging like frozen fountains on the rock out crops. Snow hanging on the trees, clinging hard to keep from falling to earth. Snow strategically covering the ice patches on the streams almost like soft pillows amongst the cold running water. Further up the mountains the snow adorned the trees as if it had been magically sprayed on by a Divine hand. It was breathtaking!

On the way home, as I came out of the mountains, I began to see the slow metamorphosis of the white crystal empire turn into a earth toned, water stained like canvas, with sad dirty piles of the six sided fancies we refer to as snow. It wasn't pleasing to look at. It was as if winters beauty had been cast aside like an old rug that was worn out.

Winter can be a depressing time of year but when it displays itself in its full grandeur it ranks right up there with Gods other seasonal displays of nature. The fresh bloom and rebirth of life each spring, the warm, soft lushness to the summer greenery, and the hot blend of tapestry like colors that come each fall. Each of the four seasons speak volumes about the Divine hand of the ultimate artist at work. It's almost like God is showing how each season is not only a display, but a statement. A statement that we need to accept and take unconditionally about the world he has allowed us to rent space on. This is his domain and not ours. By his good grace he has allowed us to live hear and prosper.

Our native forefathers never had the concept of land ownership. They lived with the land. The land gave to them as they treated it. A simple extension of the golden rule. Take nothing more than you need and there will be plenty for all. Generations of mankind lived this way for thousands of years. And now man has to have possession of one of Gods greatest achievements, a living, breathing, and constantly evolving thing we call earth.

So the next time you're out and about and cussing up a storm about the snow coming down on the roads while you're driving, stop look around and accept the beauty that is around you and the ever unfolding diorama that God is setting before us each and every day. It truly is like "Driving in a Winter Wonderland."