I Wait for Snow.

snow sky

I’m curled up inside Rapunzel’s waiting for snow. I smelt it close by this morning as I sniffed the air. The dorje dog and I often sniff the air together. We glance at one another in silent communication as we walk the perimeter of the garden, weaving our creaturely spells of protection.

Right now, there’s an icy silence in the world, and a wind so cutting it that it still manages to find its way beneath all my layers of clothing.

I’m slipping into this quiet, expectant world. Because I am excited, and scattered, breathless and overwhelmed. I warm hot chocolate on the stove in my tiny kitchen, and I pour it into an earthenware bowl. I sit at my little desk, near the sprig of daphne that I picked from the garden. Its heady scent mixes with the smell of hot chocolate, and incense. I listen intently to the wind’s secrets, making it my meditation.

daphne, flowering in my garden.

Less noise and chatter, more leaning in towards the senses, and the earth’s whisperings.

It’s best for me not to speak too much, just now, because amidst all the change and challenge, (which ignites and excites me*), I have become ungrounded. And an ungrounded creature of the Air can be a silly, exhausting thing to behold. Dizzying for all concerned. It’s wonderful in a way, but I need to slow it all down, and bring my heart back to a steady rhythm.

Water is the element I turn to, whenever I require grounding, and comforting. Water is my Wise Mother, and through her I am able to seek counsel and nurturing. I will draw a bath later, from our precious rainwater stores – so plentiful at the moment, (one of Winter’s abundant blessings). I’ll add oil of jasmine, sea salt, and my body shall be held, pale and soft in the water, like a pearl.

So I wait for snow, and I search for its signs in the clouds, like a soothsayer. And I remember this as I write, and love, and work, and when the breathlessness enfolds me too tightly.




*I can’t abide stress of any kind, but I adore change. A strange little contradiction, I suppose.

11 thoughts on “I Wait for Snow.

  1. So beautiful. And I am thrilled for your excitement!
    I am over summer already despite not really having had any. Reminded that autumn and winter are my home. It’s nice here but overwhelming. My heart flutters when I notice 9pm now being just that bit darker : )
    May you find your steady rhythm. Xx


    1. Thankyou Jo : )

      Autumn and Winter are my home also…even though I am easily enamoured of Spring’s gardening opportunities. It’s not the same as being inside the darkest seasons.
      I haven’t noticed the days lengthening here (yet) simply because it’s so overcast most of the time. But the light is changing – the angles are different. The sunlight is reaching previously deserted little corners, which lets me know the seasons are slowly shifting. I’m holding Winter close, while I still can.


  2. What I remember about snow, it doesn’t snow here often, is the quiet, and how it muffles everything. It’s stifling hot here. And the trees are loud with the birds and squirrels. Enjoy your quiet.


    1. Squirrels must be noisy things, (my limited experience of the critters is that they are cheeky, noisy, rollicksome fellows). It doesn’t snow often here either, Nicole. But every Winter we have a brief possibility that it might. I’ve become a bit snow-obsessed. xx


  3. yesyesyes…the silence of snow. and that expectant feeling the world gets, waiting for the snow to begin.

    great is my snow envy! because here the air was so thickly humid this morning that it felt like something one should swim in rather than breathe. hot, so hot by midday that clothing is an affront to the senses, and doing anything seems impossible. dinner is served later because no one wants to eat during the glare, despite the air conditioning. curtains drawn so continually against the sun that it seems like there has been a death in the house permanently. everyone is both torpid and irritable, an impossible combination that manages still to exist. and the cicadas positively scream all afternoon…

    i too resort to the bath, to water hot enough to make the air feel cold and scents of vetiver and rose and chypre perfumes. pearl-like in color, but feeling more like the piece of grit that is its beginning…i eat salt, and drink picpoul de pinet very cold.

    hopefully the changes coming to you are good ones, and you have had a lovely snowfall.


    1. You conjure that oh-so-familiar experience of heat well, NFS. Bleuch. I actually always relished being in SE Asia’s humidity (and I was often there in high Summer!). I felt really healthy and clear when I was there. But for some reason, when we experience high humidity here in Australia, (not so often in this part of the country) I find it sapping. We mostly have dry heat (oh very dry – like a furnace in the desert dry). It makes your skin feel about 1000 years old.

      Baths are just a good thing all year round, hey?

      I haven’t had any snow yet. I’m nursing a mad hope that there will be though, so I keep squinting compulsively at the sky in search of snowclouds. xx


  4. oh, if i close my [sweaty] eyes, i can almost feel the knife-edge of your wind…how very much i’d welcome it. *sigh*

    i’m with Jo..summer is NOT my best season. so much to love about it, and yet, so much to vehemently despise. July, particularly, is moste loathsome.

    i hope you find your ‘ground’ again soon…too much Air is very unsettling indeed. but the excitements and writerly goodnesses 🙂 , well — worth a bit of flapping about, i’d say.



    1. I think your July, Mel, must be very similar to our late Jan-Feb. Which can be brutal. I just withdraw from all public life, and languish on my tatty chaise lounge. And the heat of Summer makes it hard for me to concentrate on any proper mental work, so I try to get lots of things of that nature done at this time of the year. It’s possibly what I find the most challenging aspect of Summer, (apart from garden woes), is that it’s simply often too hot to think. Love and ice-lollies xx


  5. “Less noise and chatter, more leaning in towards the senses, and the earth’s whisperings.”


    And I envy you, your winter. We are in high summer, and I don’t “do” heat/humidity well. Not-well-at-all…..

    It seems your other post, was “eaten” by wordpress. Sorry, as it sounded most interesting…


    1. Yikes, Tessa! This heat is affecting so many of you Northern souls. And I soooo relate to not dealing with the heat. My word, yes. I struggle to be cheerful during the Hot Season.

      Hopefully there will be some cool relief coming your way soon – maybe in the form of a delicious thundery storm to energise you, and replenish gardens. Thundery storms seem to me a lovely reward for all that torpid humidity. xx


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