The Time I Saw a Snowflake and Lost My Mind


Yesterday evening was magical – one of those winter nights where the moonlight gently touched every glistening flake of snow and that winter silence was settled heavily on the Earth. It was futile to try and stay inside, almost appalling to consider the thought of not stepping out to experience it.

No joke. It was magnetic.

My husband and I are incredibly lucky to live next door to a gorgeous reserve in Cheyenne called Lion’s Park. There are no lions there, which I find highly misleading; however, there is an expanse of woodland surrounding an absolutely pristine lake – the kind where kids swim in the summer time and fathers and sons make memories fishing together on the docks regularly. It’s a precious place and we’ve enjoyed the privilege of living so close by.

On a winter night like this, the moonlight brushed its light across the frozen lake and over the glistening backs of ducks huddled in the cold. And it was cold. The kind of crisp cold that makes for the most perfect snowflakes. As we walked around the lake trail at midnight you could see the tiny, paper cut designs catching light from several feet away. They were balanced upon each other, fluffy and light and oh so perfect.

And then I bent down to lightly pick some up on my smooth, black glove and just about lost my mind. 

Nothing prepares you for an epiphany – a spark – those out-of-the-blue moments where all of a sudden the world is as small and as vast as the desperately beautiful snowflake balanced upon your fingertip.


One thought on “The Time I Saw a Snowflake and Lost My Mind

  1. I felt this way yesterday. I’ve been running in the afternoons after work here in Costa Rica so that I could explore the little town I’m currently living in (let’s be honest, I really started out to try to combat the effects of living in this land of carbs). My mind tends to wander while running, like happens to many people who run, so I am not always paying attention to my surroundings. But yesterday, as I decided to run for the hills instead of around the neighborhoods, I was stopped dead in my tracks; there was a clearing in the trees by the road, perfectly framing the view of a gorgeous chestnut brown horse, wading knee deep in a little swamp and drinking from the water. It was surrounded by the classic, immense and towering greens of Central America, and the whole thing was just absolutely picturesque. It was a moment that made me remember that I was going on a run through the farms and pastures of freaking Costa Rica, and should never forget to look around at the view again! I will never forget it.


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