Six faces plastered to window as
snow began to fall,
white angel down, and
six faces ranging from 1 to 26,
I, the one 26,
and six pairs of eyes which had never before
gazed upon the majestic beauty of
snow falling against a glowing winter moon.
The majority of my 26 years had been spent
wintering along a California beach and
the delight of the season had never
been mine to behold.
with a move out of state, it had
become a treasure and I,
along with my children,
was unwittingly holding my breath as if
would break the spell which had
fallen along with the white of heaven.
Our winter in the snow was magic.
We lived as we never had before,
spending hours in the white frozen outdoors,
until our noses were rose red,
fingers and toes long forgotten.
We made sugar snow maple candy
just like Laura and Mary,
we made mini snow men and
had hundreds of snowball fights and
took long drives to see more and
embracing the wonderlands we found,
being amazed by each and
No longer do we live where winter means
back to the California beach where
we spend winters on the sand and
in flip flops.
The season of magic has become quite
for I long to taste the cold of snowflake on my tongue
and dance in the hush of the moon
while snow graces my hair
I must remain here,
where I have been planted,
holding deeply to the memory of
and for now only,
Amy is a wife, a mama, a writer, a candle-lighter, a bread baker, and an addicted knitter and reader. She homeschools her 7 children over a hill near the California ocean and blogs at To Love.
Rhythm of the Home is an online magazine for families that focuses on creating with children, nature explorations, seasonal celebrations, conscious parenting, and mindfulness in all that we do.