{"id":15938,"date":"2018-11-29T16:11:46","date_gmt":"2018-11-29T21:11:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/?p=15938"},"modified":"2018-11-29T16:11:46","modified_gmt":"2018-11-29T21:11:46","slug":"footprints-in-the-snow-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/footprints-in-the-snow-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Footprints in the Snow"},"content":{"rendered":"

Footprints in the Snow<\/span><\/h1>\n

And though today I walk away from things familiar too,
\n<\/em>I\u2019ll make new footprints in the snow, where once the flowers grew;
\n<\/em>Guided by a dream unseen; a dream that will not die,
\n<\/em>My footprints winding through the snow; beneath a twilight sky…<\/em><\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Each day I set aside an hour of my day to take a walk. This is my quiet time and it belongs to me. I am rewarded in ways both seen and unseen. Besides the obvious health benefits, many thoughts and ideas occur to me during my daily walks.<\/span><\/p>\n

My walks have no season. I have walked almost every day in every kind of weather from the blazing heat of summer to the gnawing, bone-cracking, cold of Winter. I have walked in rain and snow, and in winds so high tree limbs were blowing down in front and behind me.<\/span><\/p>\n

I have several different routes \u2013 each requiring a different amount of time. If the weather is extreme, I will take route number one. It takes me just about thirty minutes to complete. If the weather is exceptionally pleasant, I might opt for route #4 \u2013 the longest of them all. It takes me a little over an hour.<\/span><\/p>\n

No matter which route I choose, each one, at some point, passes though a large wooded area. During the summer, these woods are a welcome refuge from the heat and the searing rays of the sun. Many times, on particularly scorching summer days, I walk the meandering path as it snaked through maples, birches, sycamores, bushes, and a myriad colorful wild plants; I cool off in the dark, cool, oxygen-rich air. It’s a simple pleasure. And a welcome, although brief respite, from the heat of a typical summer day.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now winter has come early in the death throes of fall. My walks are of quickened pace through the cold and damp air. My body carries the burden of extra clothing, jackets and coats that provide a modicum of protection from the slashing, harsh winds of winter. Days and nights in winter seem more windy than days and nights of any other season. Maybe it’s just because the brutal cold cuts through my skin like a knife.<\/span><\/p>\n

I can remember walking night after night on calm summer nights when not even the slightest breeze stirred the evening air. And the sound of life buzzed all around me. But, even on the mildest days in winter, the damp chill of the sharp wind always finds its way deep into my soul.<\/span><\/p>\n

But, the only sound now is the wind; the buzz of life is silenced by a cold and unrelenting winter wind.<\/span><\/p>\n

The raw wind is a ubiquitous reminder that winter\u2019s grip is tight and its reign is longer than that of any other season. I have tried so hard to learn to enjoy the gloomy windy days and the long, lifeless nights of winter. But sometimes, it\u2019s difficult \u2013 especially when snow and ice make my daily walks a struggle; a true test of my resolve.<\/span><\/p>\n

And of course, there\u2019s the wind. Always blowing. Always harsh. Always biting. Always cold.<\/span><\/p>\n

However, even if I have not yet completely learned to enjoy the gloom and gray of windy winter days and bitter winter nights, at least I have learned to appreciate them. Winter seems more a season of reflection than any other. Winter is the time when flowers and trees sleep; yet we mistake them for dead. Winter gives us the time to ponder. Indeed winter is a season of remembrance. And even more, it is the season of hope.<\/span><\/p>\n

The woods are covered now in a crusted blanket of snow that conceals the path that I have walked so often in spring, summer and autumn. Without the path, however, I am free to roam anywhere I wish in these woods. The bright green things of summer that once thrived and filled these woods are gone; no tangled mass of plants, weeds or other growing things hinder my steps. The path has disappeared like gossamer recollections of faint and fleeting summer breezes. There is no color \u2013 only dark and light. The dead, sleeping trees sway woefully in the winter wind; dancing like bleak shadowy skeletons in the chilling gloom of the woods. There is no color at all but the color of memories.<\/span><\/p>\n

The only sounds I hear are rattlings of trees… the skeleton trees dancing lifeless. And I my hurried footsteps crunching through the ice-crusted snow.<\/span><\/p>\n

As far as I can tell, I am the only person who has walked these woods this entire winter. There are no footprints other than my own save for the tiny tracks of some small unseen creature who must still call this place \u201chome\u201d \u2013 even in the dead of winter.<\/span><\/p>\n

This little woods is my refuge and my retreat. My place to think and reflect. I can\u2019t help wondering that maybe the world would be a little bit better if everyone had a place like \u201cmy\u201d woods. Or, if everyone just walked in their own peaceful silence and used the time to reflect on their blessings and their own life-challenges. Most of us have plenty of both upon which to reflect.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

My musings are slapped by the cold wind; bitter in my face. My pondering interrupted briefly by its harsh reminder that it is winter and it\u2019s cold. But the interruption lasts only a moment and then I find myself wishing the spring wild flowers were sprouting from the forest floor \u2013 that the wind were a bit less harsh \u2013 and that winter\u2019s lease had a shorter date. Musing again, I stop and remember everything has its season. The trick is to appreciate each as it comes for each has its right to be as much as I do.<\/span><\/p>\n

And longing for what we cannot have makes us sad and bitter. We should strive to accept what we do have and be thankful for it -regardless of how little it may be. We should always try to remember that each day is a gift. Each day is a blessing. No matter how little we have or how poor we may think we are; life is a gift. And we should try to live it wisely. Our lives are but a grain of sand on the beach of forever and the footprints we leave behind are too soon washed away by the seasons which live on and on long after we are gone. All of us are given a limited number of days and seasons. Try to make the most of them.<\/span><\/p>\n

Each walk I have taken has its own personality. Some are more memorable than others. In the silence of the evening I think about long walks taken on soft summer nights. Warm summer nights and long summer walks when I looked up at the stars and wondered at their beauty and the mysteries they must hold. I remember walks on rainy days in springtime and being drenched by the time my walk was done. On those days when nature presented her challenges I would often feel a little sense of victory over the elements \u2013 and a little pride in the commitment I made to myself: to take just one hour each day for a walk \u2013 time well spent.<\/span><\/p>\n

Winter is the most solemn yet most hopeful season of all. Winter is a good time to make time for you. Look inside yourself and find the great things hiding there inside. Take a walk,, or do whatever it is you like to do \u2013 but set some time aside every day just for you.<\/span><\/p>\n

This winter I hope you make some footprints in the snow.<\/span><\/p>\n

Footprints In The Snow<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

What shy and pale darkness drifts down upon this land?<\/em><\/span>
\nBetween the seasons changing, a quiet, silent hand.<\/em><\/span>
\nThe gift of life pervading the death that does surround<\/em><\/span>
\nThe whiteness of the morning and the silence all around.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

I can see the footprints, the ones I\u2019ve left behind;<\/em><\/span>
\nA long and winding trail of steps that destiny designed.<\/em><\/span>
\nA trail of tears and laughter, of sun and shadows deep,<\/em><\/span>
\nOf promises I\u2019ve broken and ones I\u2019ve yet to keep.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

I shall not let this sadness nor lost love set my course;<\/em><\/span>
\nOr base the steps I\u2019ve yet to take on passion or remorse.<\/em><\/span>
\nMy mind still stained with savage pain of things that cannot be;<\/em><\/span>
\nOf gentle hours and sweet snow showers and nights upon the sea.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

And though today I walk away from things familiar too,<\/em><\/span>
\nI\u2019ll make new footprints in the snow, where once the flowers grew;<\/em><\/span>
\nGuided by a dream unseen; a dream that will not die,<\/em><\/span>
\nMy footprints winding through the snow; beneath a twilight sky.<\/em><\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Footprints in the Snow And though today I walk away from things familiar too, I\u2019ll make new footprints in the snow, where once the flowers grew; Guided by a dream unseen; a dream that will not die, My footprints winding through the snow; beneath a twilight sky… Each day I set aside an hour of my day to\u2026 Read More »<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":13582,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[228],"tags":[1720],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15938"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=15938"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15938\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15939,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15938\/revisions\/15939"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/13582"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15938"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15938"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15938"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}