Well, Christmas is almost here. I have avoided Christmas tunes by selective radio listening and refusing to do any Christmas shopping until frighteningly late. Life is good. You see, as a musician, I find Christmas music heinous- unless you play the ancient tunes on ancient instruments. I'd be perfectly happy to listen to a rendition of Greensleeves on recorder or lute, or even a sackbut (which I may have spelled wrong, but it's so much fun to say.)

Last night, my record was broken, because I actually played in a Christmas Concert at the Masonic Center. The concert went well and didn't annoy me because my tolerance for holiday music hadn't been tested yet this year. One song that didn't annoy me, but usually does was Walking in a Winter Wonderland. What bothers me about this song is simply its overuse. There's nothing wrong with it, I've just heard it a thousand times.

This morning, I went for a walk in the snow. The song, Walking in a Winter Wonderland just doesn't set the mood for me that Winter really is. So, without being overly poetic, I just thought I'd muse about what it's like for me when I walk in a winter wonderland.

On my way home from dropping my daughter off at school, I noticed the sound of my boots packing the snow each time I stepped. Even with my head bundled in a hat and a hood, the sound intruded. Everything else was silence, like the blanket of snow shushed the wind. Nothing moved but snowflakes, and even they fell in slow motion. A car went by from time to time. Loud, but a reminder of life.

I love best in winter a white sky. Blue is too bright. Today, the sky is gray. The gray sky mutes the colors. Trees are black lashes in the distance. Near, they are bark colored- a tone neutral to the point of being indescribable. Pine green seems near black. It is a study in contrast, but not tone. Simple. Calm.

No more cars now, just my feet. I begin to hear the impact of snowflakes against my jacket. Such tiny missiles they are, but slow as they fall, they don't alight. They chip against me, hard little shards that seem so delicate.

To me, this is wonder. This slow walk through stillness, so quiet that a solitary snowflake makes its impact. I talk to God in these moments, and he doesn't answer. It doesn't matter, though. I don't answer him, either.

I say to God, thank you for my feet, that can crunch through this snow, and for my ears that can hear it, and for my eyes that can see this beauty.

I am calm now, and inspired. I would love to write, or sit in a window and snuggle with my guys. They, too, have an appreciation for snow. I think, though, that I have things to do. Lots of shopping. Ugh...