The wind whispers from all sides as I gaze across the vast, open emptiness. There is a stark feeling of isolation as I look across the horizon and see nothing but white until it looks like the earth just stops. The cold is gradual but quick. I've only been out here for a few minutes and my cheeks sting with the bite of the wind. The temp today is a balmy minus 7 with a crisp, constant wind of 7 mph. The windchill is almost 30 below. Why am I out here?
As I start to walk back to the truck something catches my eye. All along the edge of the road, sprouting from beneath many layers of snow and ice, are blades of grass. How does something stay alive in the bitter cold? It has to be alive. It's green and standing straight up into the air. Some blades stand nearly 2 feet while others are just peeking out from the snow. I've lived here for nearly 16 years, yet I don't recall ever noticing this little miracle before. As I reach the truck, I notice a figure jogging in the distance. It is just he and I for miles with nothing but the sound of the wind.
Great that you will be writing again. Looking forward to reading your posts.
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