During the winter I am content--or try to think I am--
to make my head-quarters in town and to get fresh air
and a broader outlook at intervals that are frequent,
but still at intervals.
Perhaps the walk or drive out to the frozen lake among
the hills for an afternoon's skating is the more keenly
relished because of a busy week elsewhere.
For all practical purposes nature is at a standstill...
There is a wonderful joy in leaving behind the noisy city
streets and starting out along the white road that leads
across the hills. With each breath of the sharp, reviving
air one seems to inhale new life. A peace as evident as
the sunshine on the fields takes possession of one's inner being.
The trivial cares which fretted like a swarm of mosquitoes
are driven away by the first sweep of wind that comes straight
from the mountains. . . . The intense silence that broods over
the snow-bound land is a conscious blessing.
The deep blue of the sky and the purple shadows cast by
the trees and plants are a feast to the eye.
The crunch of the snow-rind beneath our feet and the varied
hum of the telegraph wires overhead are music to our ears.
Frances Theodora Parsons
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