Winter Is A Time Of Magic

LA MESA -- Nose pressed against the freezing window pane. Hands cupped around my eyes to shadow from the glare. The bite of the cold through the glass. I watched the first snow flakes of Winter drifting to earth. Its a great Saturday, but of course every Saturday is great because there's no school. The furnace is chugging along keeping the rooms warm whilst outside the sky is gray with rolling clouds, the air is filled with wee white things that to my young eyes are magic. Magic each year at this time. I quickly dash to the closet and pull my mackinaw and boots from their hiding places. Love these ole rubber galoshes, the ones with the three buckles up the side. I can do anything whilst wearing these guys. I can wade in the pretty deep puddles, cross the shallow creek just a little ways from my back door, ease into the water to capture the crawdads in the summer. And best of all, I can walk through the grand snow and never get my shoes wet. Oh sure, my toes really start to hurt from the cold but I dont have to worry about my mum shouting about getting my feet wet in the cold.

Galoshes on, mackinaw buttoned tightly, gloves and stocking cap on, I am ready. Quickly out the front door and close it so the warm air doesnt get out, I step off the porch and look upward, tongue extended. Magic. No other word for it. Magic.I hear the gentle tinkle of the flakes striking the fallen snow at my feet. I feel the flakes touching, ever so softly on my face. I taste the wee magic spots of cold on my tongue. All about me is the magic world of Winter. I love the crunch with each step. I can hear other kids laughing and expect a barrage of snow balls at every corner. Love the way the snow piles onto itself even on the tiniest of surfaces. The air is so still that all along the top wire of our fence there is a growing pile of snow. Looking closely, I can almost see each wee flake. I've seen photos of them but they're so small I cant really see the details except in my imagination. And thats the magic also. How can something made out of plain ole water be so pretty? How can just plain ole water become such magic to a fourth grader? 

I found the following photos and suddenly I was sixty years in the past. Suddenly I was transported to the world of children in the Winter. Suddenly I was, for just a brief time, back in the world of magic.

Maybe these will make the magic work for you:

Can you see the magic? Can you feel it?

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