It is the beginning of a New Year and there is a hush that seems to enter my home as the sky darkens and snow begins to fall. It is a quiet snow, the kind that falls like fluffy cotton straight from the heavens. It is a snow that seems both light and heavy as it sinks slowly toward the earth. This kind of snow has a way of quietening the world outside.

I had been washing dishes while looking out the kitchen window when the snow started. But now, I stand as though mesmerized by the curtain of snow that is creating a haze between my home and my neighbours. I can no longer see as far into the distance, my gaze is brought nearer to home and lingers on the large flakes gathering on the shrubs and trees in my yard.

I love this kind of snow. It falls straight down without making a sound. There is no wind to blow the snow about as it quietly gathers on blades of grass, tree branches, fence posts and window ledges. It covers everything it touches like an insulating blanket that extends an invitation to speak in whispers and curl up with a blanket to read by a fire.

How quietly the snow makes its descent. Without a sound, it has invited me to remember the quiet that resides deep within. The kind of quiet that makes me pause and ponder the beauty of the moment and entices a sense of gratitude and contentment to spread its warmth through my whole being.

In the time it has taken me to finish washing up the dishes, my backyard has been gently transformed. What was once green grass is now a fluffy white blanket. As I rinse the sink and finish tidying up the kitchen, I am feeling blessed with a reminder that change can enter our lives as quietly and gently as this falling snow. Somehow, this teaching helps me embrace the turning of this year with an inner smile of anticipation.

With quiet blessings for this unfolding year,

(If you enjoyed this Reflection, you might like to check out my book, Lessons from Nature, which can be ordered through most on-line booksellers including Chapters.)