First Snow Comes - by Sharon Caulfield

I can see my breath as I climb the hill. Pockets of ground that were muddy last week are now frozen over, horse tracks memorialized on the trails. At 7:30am, only the chickadees are out and about. Me, the chickadees and the lightly falling snow.

Everything seems quieter than usual this morning. The cars on the turnpike are muted. When I stop to look at the woods, I only hear a light crunching as the flakes fall on my jacket. I raise my face to the sky to taste this first snowfall, and I remember how I felt as a child, playing the in the woods in my backyard. Tasting the snow is kind of a silly tradition, but I can’t help it. There will be time to whine about snow come March. But in December, snow is still a marvel. And so on I hike, in the peacefulness of an early morning, and in celebration of snow.

Sharon is an avid trail user at Libby Hill and blog contributor.