• Treasures in Snowy Silence

 

Setting: Pine Springs Ranch, Apple Valley in San Jacinto Mountains of southern California; Solitude Day on the Journey spiritual retreat

 

Six to twelve inches of fresh weekend snow

cover mountain and meadow

in a coat of white on this Monday morning.

It reminds me of God’s gracious covering

that hides the ragged,

rough,

            repugnant,

rotten

ravages of sin.

 

The snow becomes brilliant and glistening

   the moment the sun tops Spitler Peak.

Solitary trees like shining silver spires

   slice the skyline around the 7000-foot rim

      of the Desert Divide that forms a semicircle above Apple Valley

   and climb the peaks that jut up an additional 550 feet.

A forest of firs, totally swathed in ice and snow,

   stand as uniquely sculpted, shimmering crystal columns

      in a magnificent open air temple

         on the steep slope immediately below Spitler Peak.

 

This snow also cloaks the landscape in a mantle of silence.

   Not even the slightest breeze whispers in pines or chaparral.

   Birds puff their feathers into downy balls,

      snuggle behind bushy branches,

         tuck their heads beneath their wings,

            and utter not a twitter.

   Even the distance rumble of jets flying five miles above is amazingly muffled.

On this Day of Solitude it’s a world of silence.

   I relish relief from

      freeway roar,

         scream of sirens,

            noise of too much to do in too little time.

   I savor the silence.

 

But wait!

Just as God speaks in a still small voice after

      the roar of a storm,

      the flames of a fire,

      the wrenching of an earthquake,

   so the silent white world speaks.

 

A piccolo trickle of water somewhere under the snow

   plays a gentle, soothing, high soprano tune

      on its way to restore life in a dry land.

Melt water from a 15-foot thicket of mountain mahogany

   randomly and delightfully drips

      on leaflets, stems, and the snow below

   to play a delicate tune on a dancing zymbalstern.

Big black bubbles like giant amoebas meander

and modulate their shape and size

in another trickle that flows

underneath snow turned into transparent ice at the road’s edge,

until at last they find a channel to the outside and burst.

Each trickle merges with more emerging from a snow bank

   and become a rippling stream that scintillates in the sun

      as it races down the road.

Soon the relaxing, refreshing water music of a mountain creek

   rejoices me, mind and heart.

      Surely the river flowing from God’s throne

         will make music as it gives life.

 

The twitter in triple upper register of a California Towhee

      catches my attention.

   I watch as the bird finds dessert in a tuft of weeds

      poking from the snow.

A flock of robins forage on an open patch of ground

   under the protecting limbs of a live oak.

There is plenty of food even in winter

   for those who search.

And there has been food in abundance for me

on this day of solitude and silence.

 

Snow cones balanced on branches

   plummet with a plop into the softening snow.

Cakes and candies of snow decorate stones and stumps,

   then begin to melt and slide to form jaunty caps.

As the sun continues to warm the air,

   bushes bent low and buried by the wet, heavy snow

      resurrect with a whoosh as they spring free

      and shake off their burial clothes with a flurry.

Thus the metaphor has changed.

   Earlier, snow coated the barrenness of life without God

      with his beauty and brilliance.

   Now the weight and bondage of life under sin

      is melted as resurrection life springs forth.

 

Late afternoon:

Clouds fill the sky; the landscape dulls,

   just as some days discourage and depress.

Suddenly the sun blazes through a break in the clouds,

   turning the snow on the Desert Divide

      a glowing gold,

      a fitting taste of God’s glory to close the day.