First Snowfall

Ah. A day late. I meant to tell you this yesterday, but I took the time instead to snap the pictures.

It snowed. A silent waking, windows full of white.

The roads were icy, so we weren't going to walk. That meant that on our first really snowy day this winter, I wasn't going to see my lake. Not good.

So I wheedled. George, my husband, said he thought he could navigate the streets, if we were careful. "We'll just take a look," I said, because I knew a walk in the snow was not his idea of a good time, not with his bad knee that so much prefers the bicycle.

I didn't mean to lie.

But when we got there, we walked just a little way, and I took pictures.

Then we walked a little farther. And a little farther. And soon we found ourselves on the far side of the lake. Halfway round. So we might as well keep going, right?

Look what a beautiful day it was. In fact, why not look out the window at your own day, to really look at what's out there? Wouldn't it be sacrilege, not to notice? And this Christmas season, this time when the God of heaven came to be among us, this is no time for sacrilege.

I think that's why I love my camera, and why I love writing. You have to see, to take a picture. You have to notice. And you have to pay attention, if you hope to write it all down. One of my favorite bits of advice about writing comes from Ray Bradbury:

"Stuff your eyes with wonder. Live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made up or paid for in factories."

Don't be so busy. Get out there. Stuff your eyes with wonder.