Blanket of Peace

Yesterday was very peaceful. I went walking in the snow twice. The first time was so moving that I went again. There was close to a foot of snow on the ground and the snow was still falling and the wind was tolerable. It is so peaceful when it is snowing. The brown leaves and the dog waste are all covered up and it is very quiet.

This is the time that defines New England, the time of rest and reflection. If you spend time looking out of the window in the other seasons, all you see are things that have to be done. Mow the grass, trim the bushes, wash the car, or fire up the grill. If you spend time looking out of the window at the snow falling, all that you see is peace. All that you hear is peace. No dogs barking, no radios blaring, just the whisper of the snow as it settles itself in for a long Winter's nap. It is an alluring peace that holds your attention for quite some time until you start thinking of cocoa and baking and roasting. That is New England to me. A place and a people that are beautiful and peaceful. A place and a people that take the time to reflect on and value what is important. Peaceful, pensive, and pot roasty. The cities of New England are not all like that but the back roads and small towns are repositories of peace and quiet and people that don't speak unless they have something to say. Where else would someone write a poem about birches or write a diary about growing peas and cracking ice and walking beside the ocean? Watching peas and watching waves and appreciating them doesn't just happen. One has to learn to silence the cacaphony that is conversation and listen to the symphony of one's own mind. That rare skill is endemic to New England and learned by watching snow fall. That same snow falls on Chicago, hog butcher to the world, falls on the Northwest, where survivalists have guns as clean as their minds are clear of rational thought or thoughts of peace. When that snow falls on New England it finds peace. The west coast has surfers and Hollywood, the south west has Las Vegas, the South has Nascar and country music, the mid-atlantic states have the hustle and bustle of New York and the joy of Washington D.C. where northern hospitality is combined with Southern efficiency. New England has maple syrup and baked beans and fried clams and scallops and lobster and SNOW! A time to rest and reflect on what is really important. We don't have spaceports and mega-amusement parks and huge military bases and gold mines and copper mines and coal seams and oil fields. We do have beaches and parks and colleges and hospitals and museums and Fenway Park. The snow falls on all of them. We are poor in many things. There is a serious lack of failed banks and of failed financial organizations and government scandals and riots and natural disasters. The major historical disaster in New England was the Molasses Flood. We do have Fenway Park and snow. We also have a building with a light on top that forecast rain and snow and the state of the schedule for Fenway Park and our State House has a statue of a hooker in front and a model of the Sacred Codfish inside. We also have snow.