I left Northglenn at 6 p.m. in light snow. Dry, glittering flakes with little wind. When I reached the road running west from Lyons through the St. Vrain River canyon, the sloppy, gloppy roads and the traffic were left behind. Only the hum of the car, the tires on the snow-covered pavement, dry snow which the "hocky-pucks" like, remained. High beams touched the over-reaching bulges of rock walls beside the road, picking out narrow snow-etched ledges; swung out around bends, caressing the fir branches with their toppings of snow.

In the dark, it felt like each curve would be the last one near the top of the canyon, but then another would appear. And another, until finally the sign for the turn to a little village appeared, and I was out of the canyon and on the Peak-to-Peak Highway that runs to Estes Park.

I met no one else, except for a snowplow going the other way, before the turn at Meeker Park onto the dirt road leading to the lane to the cabin. It felt like driving the snow-covered back roads in Vermont. The lane dropped to a little bridge and then climbed fast and curvy to the cabin. No problem, though, with enough momentum. Parked and turned off the car and unloaded, joining two friends in the cabin, preparing a staff retreat for the morrow.

Six to eight inches of snow, with more glittering down, shining in the light beside the cabin door. The mountain, Meeker, off in the darkness of the snow cloud.

I awoke before daybreak and looked out the window to see tree shadows. Tree shadows!! Dressed quickly (35-40 degrees inside the cabin, 10 degrees outside) and went outside. The half moon shone from high overhead, creating velvet shadows beneath the spruce and pines. Deneb and Vega were on either side of the moon, bright enough to still be seen.

I remembered the first winter in the house I had built in the woods in Vermont, and one January night when the moon was full and snow lay thick and bright. I opened the back door and leaned against the frame with the not-too-chilly air floating around me and wrote these lines:

MAGIC'S DANCE

Tonight I waited for the animals to dance
to come slowly up the tree tunnel to the clearing
to the fresh whiteness glistering in the moonlight

tree shadows web and cloud the snow
dark echoes of the clouds swiftly skeining the sky
yet here there's a mere drift of air
the trees' still branches clasped by the new softness

I would dance tonight in the newness of the clearing
singing softly to the snow, the moon
to the rich darkness of the firs
and the fretwork of the beeches
to the animals unseen
in the magic of this moon-bright night.

Slowly the dark sky lightened and the mountain glowed pearly bright with its cape of snow. As sun crept nearer the horizon behind me, the mountain turned pink, and then white when the sun shown directly. Every cup of pine needles held a topping of snow. Every branch clearly limned. The sky became brilliant blue. An unforgettable day.

Blessings on you all,
Cherie