Thoughts On Being A Home Body

Great white flakes of snow are falling once again, slowing falling from Heaven with an unspeakable grace.  Each flake seems to have its own definite purpose, passing other flakes or momentarily suspended, as if to wait its turn to land.  I just saw one flake that was at least an inch in diameter !   When the wind decides to blow, the flakes just take a sideways approach to their landing.  Since I am a "home body"  I have the joy in just standing by the window for as long as I want, just watching these miraculous crystals fall from heaven.  Yes, I know that snow can be problematic, I grew up in New England and have family there so I know all about what happens when snow falls in excess, but for me, right now, its just pure beauty falling from the gray sky.   Mornings like this drive me to seek poetry, not the deep minded stuff, that you have to try to dissect line by line in hope to get a glimpse of what the poet meant when he penned his words, but the poetry of simple folks that weave words in beautiful colors of the ordinary in life.   This morning, I pulled out my well worn copy of "My Kitchen Window" by Edna Jaques.    I love her poems, they so often say exactly what my heart feels.  I think she would have been a "kindred spirit" as Anne of Green Gables spoke of.   This well worn book of poems, first published in 1935, but in its fifth printing in my 1942 edition,  was dearly loved by its previous owner, Gertrude Howard.  There are well worn pages, and page corners turned for the favorites.   I suspect, I would have liked this previous owner.
The snow, now accomplishing the joint goal of each flake, to blanket this tired, worn land in a soft purity, that chases away so much that wears us down.  Snow is a gift of purity for a moment in time at least.  That hushed silence that comes with it, a break from all the noise of life.  It gives us the opportunity to breathe in deeply that magical scent of cold winter air, that reminds us of childhood memories filled with snowball fights, sled rides and snowmen. How is it we so easily forget the joy of the simple when we grow older ? 
I am heading out for my walk among the flakes.  I may just stick out my tongue and catch a few, and laugh at myself for doing so.  I am a home body, so I will just stick to my own land.