A Distant Memory

First snow
Originally uploaded by Timothy Neesam.

It seems so distant now. That first snowflake, falling from dark skies above, landing on the tip of my outstretched tongue. Winter was cold and bitter. Snow fell across lands here and distant. Roads iced over, and a quiet hush blanketed the countryside. Mittens warmed our fingertips while hot cocoa filled our coffee cups. Cold, wet shoes dried by the heater near the back porch. Hats and scarves splattered the bench. Winter was harsh and long. We thought it would never end. Cold, dead branches from the tree reached up, almost touching cloud heavy darkened skies. Everything died, everything faded to a washed out grey.

Winter is gone now. No more fallen snow. No more mittens, hats, or cold, wet shoes. Winter is but a distant memory. Spring has taken her place among the seasons of time. It's her turn now. Old man winter, be off. Spring has moved in, your time has gone.

The buds have broken, the skies are no longer dark, and the cold is not fresh on our minds. The hot chocolate stashed, boots slowly packed into the back of the closet. Leaves and flowers come now where there was once barren shades of white and grey.

This fence would now hold back a field of flowers, keeping it boxed and safe for summer to pick up and carry away.

Text by: Carol Schiraldi
Photo by: Timothy Neesam