White-Out!

It's the morning of January 12th, my lucky day off, and I awake early as I usually do and stumble downstairs for some coffee and my favorite show before everyone else wakes up (I live with two men who insist on making wise-cracks about it, so I have to be sneaky in order to have any peace and quiet.) All the blinds and curtains are pulled tight, so I almost forget about the storm wreaking havoc just outside the comfort of my warm slippers. I look out the window above my kitchen sink, rinsing out my coffee cup and all I see is a monochromatic vision of white.

I smile. How can this day get any better?

I can't wait to get out in it, but since I've got my priorities straight, I hit up some caffeine and get my fix in front of the tele (probably the only time of a day I have complete control of the remote, so I might as well take advantage.) Ten minutes later, Taylor (my husband) comes stomping down the stairs singing, "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow." I grin, he comes and sits next to me, sees what I'm watching, but my warning glare - better known as The Look - keeps him from ruining the moment for me.

 An hour later, in even better spirits, I pull on my winter gear. Ahh and the best part - I rip the tags off my brand new LL Bean Winter Walker snowshoes (that my husband so graciously gave me for Christmas), and finally head outside to begin the daunting task of actually getting them on my boots. Taylor helps me as I stumble, fall on my butt, and cuss myself out, but pretty soon I'm hiking through our front yard, down the hill, and onto the street making a beeline for our favorite path that leads down to Lake Arrowhead.

Now if you've never seen a winter storm, you should really put it on your bucket list. The snow is coming down so hard that it reminds me of confetti falling from the sky in Times Square at midnight on New Years. The wind is swiftly making its way through the trees, and I hear the tall pines groaning in protest as snow and ice builds on their limbs, making them bend and stretch, nearly touching the ground. Everything is completely white, and I can't tell where the sky ends and the ground begins.

It has a way of making you feel ridiculously small, like a tiny speck of imperfection in the pristine beauty of the madness taking place around you.

I make it to the trail's entrance, which has this strange welcoming feeling to it, almost as if it's opened up just for my little expedition. I'm immediately surrounded by trees ~ on the left, to my right, and even above me as branches bend over the top of the trail, creating a perfect tunnel. The snow isn't as thick here with the protection of the trees, but there is literally a *light at the end of the tunnel*, and pretty soon the sky opens up above me and I'm slammed with falling snow. I pull my hood back and allow the little frozen miracles to cling to my eyelashes. Pure bliss.

 It's unbelievably quiet, almost eerily so, and I feel as if I never want to turn back. I make my way up and down hills, over fallen limbs and rocks, and reach the banks of Lake Arrowhead. The thing with frozen, snow-covered lakes is that they look much the same as the frozen, snow-covered ground ~ they blend and meld together as one giant achromatic mass. The snow is coming down so thick, that it looks like a hazy fog is lingering in the distance. I'm tempted to test the thickness of the ice ;), but I think better of it and turn around to find another trail.

I could stay out here forever, I think. I don't want to head back, just set up camp right here and remain trapped in the storm forever. It's so incredibly beautiful, raw, and savage, this thing called Mother Nature ~ if I wasn't hooked before, she's definitely ensnared me now.


The one thing that makes me turn around is my excitement to share what I've experienced with Taylor. (I never go off into the woods on my own ~ usually scares the living hell out of me ~ so I know he'll appreciate my enthusiasm). I climb back up the hill to our front yard, and find him no longer outside shoveling. I know he'll be looking for me though, so I wait a couple of seconds, and sure enough he spots me through the window and opens the front door.

"Want to go again?," he says.

"Hell yes!"

"Let me get my skis."

And we're off again.