It’s freezing outside, The snow is blindingly pure.
Sparkly in the ever lazy sun, who in just a little while, will be slumbering. Wanting desperately to go out and snap some beautiful snowy pics with my new camera, despite the frigid temps and snow coming down.
I need to get out, take a walk before the sun sets, cabin fever has seen it fit to take residence in my head and I refuse to allow it.
Ensuring that I have several heating packs in my camera bag, and a double layer of clothes.
Knowing a perfect place to snap some great shots.
Stepping out the front door, into fresh fallen snow
A slap of blustery winter air in my face. Camera Bag hanging around my neck.
Crunching with each frozen step, winter’s breathe colder than I thought.
Each inhale already feeling like liquid nitrogen sliding down my throat and filling my lungs.
It’s not that far to the old cow path that separates the corn fields and leads to the lake.
The only sound is the sound of crunching snow under foot as the house is left behind in my wake.
Each step renders the path all that much closer.
The further progressing I realize that the cold is wearing me down faster than I had imagined.
Being under the impression that I would reach the lake quicker then it seems at present.
Almost to the cow path. The skin on my face is already frozen, nose is running.
Wishing I could run as fast in this snow with heavy winter clothes.
Thankful I had spot of mind to bring along tissues.
At last I turn onto the cow path, doubtlessly a tractor path, between two corn fields.
No tractors have traveled down here since the last leaves of Autumn fell.
There are animal tracks, and fresh snowmobile tracks.
The snow is much deeper here, each step is swallowed up like hungry soup. My toes already getting cold.
A couple snowmobiles ascend the knoll leading to the lake, carving fresh tracks and blanketing me in a wave of cold, white
snow. Snowflakes sticking to my eyelashes, already freezing there.
And the sun begins it’s sweet descending slide the ray of light growing short as the snow begins to fall.
I crest the incline and can now see the frozen lake below. A small outcropping of larger rocks sit to my left,
and 15 feet from the lake edge. Trees line the slope to the right.
With frozen feet, reaching for the camera I snap a couple shots of the sunset.
Losing my footing I fall on my derriere, covered in snow and now wet from head to toe.
Getting up and brushing of the snow, I notice peculiar tracks leading towards the tree line.
Too large to be deer, not cow hooves as they don’t let them out in this field.
In a dream like state I begin to follow the tracks, leading down toward the lake and the cold treeline.
Having come all the way down the slope and standing near the frozen lake front, staring into the trees,
I realize that the hoof marks that I’ve been following are not rounded out but convex.
Hearing rustling in the trees brings me back to myself. The sun is almost down now and the wind is beginning to pickup.
I will have to head back soon or risk freezing to my very core out here.
Certainly I haven’t been out here for four hours but the warmers in my boots and gloves feel like nothing but hard lumps.
I snap a few more pics facing the lake, weeping willow bare in winter’s rage.
Time to wrap up and head for home, warmth, a hot beverage and warm bath.
With just enough light to see, I remember the spring beneath the old willow.
Growing up, we used to call it the fountain of youth. There was an old story that used to go about a girl who fell in love with a boy
in town and she wanted to stay in his arms forever. They drank the water and it’s told that they sat, embraced in each others arms gazing at
the lake and melding into one form that way. That’s where the rocky outcropping came from.
Those old stories. Giggling out loud I found myself being drawn nearer to the spring.
Something pulling at my soul strings, beckoning me to come closer.
Whipping back the willow branches, retrieving my cell phone to execute the light mode.
The spring still here, hearing the water, trickle ever so slightly.
I turn around with a start and and overwhelming feeling of someone running their fingers through my hair.
There is nothing there. Shining the light around I take notice of the hoof prints all around.
Wait, somethings under here with me, only a form I can not see.
It’s warmer under here, no wind only I see the snow billow towards me as something nears.
I turn to run and lose my footing, one leg slipping into the spring.
With the weight of the clothes, now wet up one leg, pulling me in. So heavy, straining to free myself and take to my feet.
Hoof prints appear on the left of me, stopping short of romping on me.
Half laying on my side, one leg in the water hole a frosty whisper envelopes me.
Waking to glorious sunshine, I start with a panic. Most assuredly I have frozen to death as
I am not able to recall making it home.
Fully gathering my senses, I am stiff, unable to move but just my eyes.
The most exhilarating sunrise unfolding before me.
The lake sparkling under the already sunny sky.
Feeling like I’m flying as I feel so tall, my view from so high, vertigo as I fear the fall.
Looking out on wondrous day realizing my leaves have come out to stay, unable to utter a scream or even a sigh.
There is no reason to cry as I am alive.