By Michael Suchorsky

I love a good storm, but yesterday’s arrival was untimely. Didn’t know if my road, or any roads, had been plowed, and if there were, I might have to dig through embankments if I drove.

I have always enjoyed Winter weather. If there was a good moon, I would walk the road a couple of miles to the cemetery on a 20 degree below zero night—­for I found it scintillating. Last night it was a balmy 7 degrees, though there was a windblown snowstorm and complete darkness. But I needed to get to a friend’s house (99% of my friends would not understand the reason why) and their place was only a little over a mile away up the mountain. Donning multiple layers of clothes, though I could not find a hat, I departed. The flashlight stopped working before I reached the end of my driveway.

The roads had been plowed earlier, though another 5 inches of snow had fallen since. Nevertheless, I could find my way, for if I swayed off the road I would step into a plowed snowbank. I exited the road to traverse the final quarter mile of open field—lit by my friend’s house in the distance. To my surprise, there were many snowdrifts up to 3 feet high and I was huffing and puffing.

It was actually a unique experience, consciously being present in my body—that oneness being intensified by the darkness–while moving through a 3-dimensional world and feeling the sensations of a windblown snowstorm as well as my body’s reaction moving up the hillside, turning the corner to see the low lights of the house flowing out over the smooth windblown field of whiteness, moving through the virginal drifts. Memorable. Thrilled by my mini adventure.~