Special Day

Today is the kind of day that makes New England special. The snow is gently falling, the sky is grey, and there is peace all around. It is Winter. The time to rest and reflect on the past year and the coming year. Only farmers know the joy of not being able to do anything outside. It is a time to stop scurrying around, performing the mundane tasks that we tell ourselves are necessary, sticking our noses in other people's business, and take time to be human. Sometimes we create a sense of self-importance so great that we forget how important we are to ourselves. Want to know how important we are to the world? Put your hand in a bucket of water, then take your hand out. Do you see the hole that was left when you took your hand out? That is the hole we will leave when we are gone. There is meaning to life but only to the person living it.
Lately I have been thinking of the meaning of my life a great deal. I haven't found much. This morning I was walking in the snow. I tried to grasp what was around me by concentrating on each sense individually. The grey day, the whisper of the snow in the trees, the cushion of the snow on my steps, the taste of the flakes on the tongue, and hardest to explain, the smell of crispness in the air. When was the last time I thought of crispness as a smell? A thought, more of a concern, came and suddenly there was purpose. I have an idea but I am sure it will come to naught, as all the other plans I make. John Lennon "Life is what happens while you're making other plans." The ancient Greeks "What makes the gods laugh? A man with a plan.". Life seems to move so slowly, and then WHOOSH, it has streamed by. I will keep my plan to myself and hope that it comes to fruition.
The smell of crispness will stay with me. It is like life in New England. Crisp, brisk, and always displaying a new nuance to behold, if you take the time to notice it. It is not showy or flashy. It does not grab you by the senses and say "Hey, look at me!". It whispers "I am here, if you take the time to notice me.". Time is all we have, and we owe it to ourselves to notice it instead of letting it flit by. New Englanders notice. One farmer, not a very successful one, took the time to notice walls, birches, snow, and paths. He took the time to be human. Grow peas in Concord, wander Cape Cod, take the time to think, listen to ice crack. We are only visiting this world, don't spoil the trip by following an agenda. Enjoy the view and the smell of crispness.