The snow has finally arrived here in NW PA. 

It's a mixed blessing for me. I worry about my young drivers, I worry about my husband who drives for a living, I worry about me driving. Icy snowy roads make me nervous, and here I am, living on top of a hill that I have to descend to get anywhere. As well, to get anywhere in this town, you either have to go up or down a hill.

But when I'm home and have my family all home as well, the snow is a beautiful blessing. I love to stand outside and listen to the snow fall. Have you ever heard the snow? It's soft and delicate and I swear you can hear the fairies as they dance from snowflake to snowflake. I love to feel the kiss of each flake as it touches my skin. 

Evenings are soft and quiet on this hillside, sometimes so quiet that you can hear the deer walking outside near the house.

Last night I went into the kitchen to pack up the chicken noodle soup that I made earlier that evening. I had turned off the light and started towards the livingroom when a light outside caught my eye. I knew that my husband was outside, just not sure where exactly, until that moment.

He was up in the garage. We needed to take our Jeep to the shop for an inspection so he wanted to check the fluids out and give it a once over.  And so, there he was up back in the garage. Just the sight of the light against the blackness of the night and the glow in the snow gave me a strange sense of serenity. 

My father loved that garage. It was his getaway place where he would endlessly work on an old 1953 Ford sedan that he had. 

While standing there watching the shadow of my soul's mate move around, I could hear my dad giggle with a contented sound as though he was pleased with this sight as well.

I often think of moving, but then I would miss so much about this house. The soulful grounding that this gives me would be missed.

For now, I will soak in any moment of serenity it provides.

Many blessings