There is a chapter about the simple concept of places.  The snow today is beautiful in its intensity, though it isn’t the North woods.  The Huskies have their innocent snow faces on.  We called it a “snow day” today and stayed home.  

There is nothing like when the surrounding world also comes to a halt.  It can be a holiday, a major power outage, or a snow storm.  At these times, there is no energetic pressure to be somewhere or “do” something.  Everyone is in the same boat, as if adrift without a breeze, in the doldrums.   The world of incessant societal thinking about “work” has come to a halt, however briefly, in the location of the stoppage, local or national.  Today, there is minimal activity outside.  The snow is falling heavily in large flakes and I am sitting at the oval wood table in the kitchen on a Tuesday with home made egg noodles drying on the counter, to go with a roast and vegetables slow cooking in the oven.  The smell of celery and onion is wafting around, taking over the subtleties of carrots and potatoes.   With this smell, I could imagine being at my Aunt Sue’s in the old farm house, except there would also be the scent of creamed corn, which is very distinct to the senses.   There, it would be quiet except for the wind across the open fields, and the steady ticking of a clock.  I could also be at the house in the woods, waiting for friends to gather and clamor after being on show shoes, noticing the black-capped chickadees zeroing in, one by one, to the window feeder, then taking one black sunflower seed at a time to a close by balsam or aspen branch to hammer it open.  In each place, what is outside impacts what is within.  Maybe a change of scenery stops routine thinking and creates an opening for spaciousness.  Maybe true beauty opens a door.  Maybe we need an excuse to unplug from imposed priorities.   I am off the hook.