Whispers

We are in the middle of a cold spell right now. With snow and everything, so hanging out in the basement watching the grey outside is a bit of the norm here. We are fortunate to have large garden windows in our basement letting in the sneaky winter light. We can watch the snow journeying down and then just laying around. I’m fascinated by the snow on our patio steps, the way the edges of it have become rounded almost as if it were milled like a counter top.

This morning I notice that the milled edges have been disturbed. Not in a big way, but in very small ways. The snow isn’t swept off the steps as it would be if a large dog or the neighborhood fox had decided to check out the glider swing. The disturbance doesn’t even reach all the way through the snow to the concrete below which is odd. What animal is lighter than powder?

But something has been there. A whisper from the night, from the ongoing life of the world that quietly and without any media fanfare, just continues. No permission was sought or needed.

Isn’t that how most of life is for most of us? We go about our business, our lives, and there is no media report. No one finds it outrageous or stunning or exclusive when we take a walk, or go to the grocery, or don’t wear make-up, or eat too much and have to buy bigger pants with elastic waistbands.

I like living in the whispers of life. It’s much more interesting and quiet. Tranquility and peace are desirable.

And possible if you are looking out a basement garden window on a cold, grey winter’s day and are the least bit curiously observant.