Diamonds

She had always hated winter. As a child all it meant was she that couldn’t go swimming, or climbing up to her treehouse. Winter meant being stuck in school, and the house being way too cold, and the grit and stink of the kerosene heater in the living room. Going outside meant stiff clothes, and chilled fingers within minutes as the snow melted in her mittens, and bread bags on her feet under her boots to keep them dry, making her feet sweat.  Even fall was depressing, because it meant winter was coming.

And here she was, standing in her yard after the biggest snowstorm yet of the year in moccasins and sweatpants and a hoodie. She had almost walked out in her pajamas, but was glad she had paused to change and grab a jacket and mittens as she stomped out the door.  

This morning was crystalline. The snow before her sparkled. Everywhere she looked the ground and trees caught the morning sun and glimmered like diamonds. The air was crystalline, too. Sharp and bright, she could feel every breath in, and the contrast of the warmth when the breath was released. It didn’t hurt to breathe that cold air in, it wasn’t sharp enough to cut the lungs before it warmed, but she could feel it. Through the nose, chilling her throat before the sensation dissipated – she was aware of breathing, but not because it was constricted. She could just feel the air moving into her body. 

She noticed that the normal morning sounds were gone or muffled. There was little bird song this morning - they must be snuggled in their nests, fluffed up to keep warm. There weren’t nearly as many dogs barking as usual, either. She guessed the dog owners were still snuggled in their nests, too, and not ready to brave the layer of sparkling snow and crisp air. But she could hear creaking, and almost subliminal cracking. The chill had gone from exhilarating and enlivening, making her aware of breath moving and blood rushing here and there to regulate and warm, to just cold. Her cheeks were tingling and her fingers were starting to numb, even through the mittens. 

She stood as still as she could, watching her breath, and listened. The faintest creaking, and a small plop behind her. She turned and looked at the redbud tree, a layer of ice on its branches and a long pile of snow perched on top of that along each branch. The smallest twigs at the ends had caught snow between them as well, creating small delicate pom poms at the tips of each limb.  

The more closely she listened, the more creaks and pops and plops she could distinguish. She let her gaze travel back and forth, trying to track the sounds. Then she saw it – two branches rubbed together in the faint wind, or maybe because of the weight of the ice. The creaking was the rub between the ice, and the plop was the small clump of snow that fell soundlessly to the white carpet under the tree. 

She frowned, puzzled.  It was soundless – she had watched it fall and not heard a thing. What, then, was she hearing? She kept watching. Her cheeks and nose were moving past cold to painful and her toes were numb from standing still in the snow as she let her gaze wander. There it was – finally her eyes focused just right and she could see that there was a tiny snowstorm of miniature snowballs falling from the frozen tree. She couldn’t hear any individual clump, but the accumulation must be just enough to perceive.  

She smiled in satisfaction at figuring out the mystery and folded her arms, tucking her hands way up against her sides. She took in the whole tree and the bowed and snow-covered peony stems below. She was listening so closely that the sudden crack of a big ice-covered maple on the other side of the yard startled her. She could picture a bigger version of the drama on the redbud; two branches covered in ice, scraping or bumping against each other, the delicate coating cracking and snow falling in uneven clumps.  

 Her eyes were watering from the cold and now the breath into her body was getting painful. She cupped her wool mittens over her mouth and nose, breathing through them to warm her face. The sun had come up a little more and even more diamonds were strewn about – every bit of yard that was not in shadow sparkled like stars, or like a Tiffany’s store had been upended and emptied out in front of her. The dead stems of black eyed Susans and milkweed in the garden looked like graceful sculptures, curved and bowed beneath ice and snow.  She looked around, trying to take in the whole yard. She didn’t know if it stayed like that all day or the sparkles faded as the sun rose. Her usual goal in weather like this was to get from the car to a building as fast as possible. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had stopped to look.  

She took in the whole white, bright starscape again, and then with her eyes followed the sparkles closer and closer. She tried to focus on one diamond, one snow crystal reflecting light, but found that it disappeared as she got close. She leaned down. Where her shadow landed was like an eclipse, the stars gone. Where the sun fell the ice crust on top of the snow was still bright, almost painfully white, but like a sheet of paper, with no sparkles. When she stood up and look around, the diamonds erupted again. 

She was newly fascinated. Every shift of focus, either of hearing or sight, gave a different experience. She looked around as she took a deep breath, again through her mittens, noticing the shift of warm and cold air and the feel of damp wool on her cheeks. The condensation against her skin felt different, either warm or cool or cold, tight and dry or damp, depending on where the mitten was. The sensation changed depending on the amount of water from her breath in the mitten and how close her skin was to the cold air. The snow and light and sparkles faded to the background in her awareness as she played with the sensations on her skin. She found that a slight movement, shifting her mittens just a bit, exposed a little bit of warm, damp skin and the cold took hold. The moisture evaporated and that spot became colder for a minute than the skin that had not been under the wool. 

She didn’t know if she had ever experienced so many different temperatures and sensations all at once. She was freezing, but not miserable. She thought of how her brother Michael had once described a strenuous backpacking trip - “Pretty much the whole time I was hot and cold and tired and hungry and sore. It was amazing!”  She had never thought before that you could have unpleasant sensations or feelings, but not be mad about it. 

Her feet were really cold, though. She had not planned on standing around in the snow all morning. She was wearing moccasins and thick socks, but now the wet as well as the cold was seeping in. And she was truly shivering now too. It was time to go in. She looked around one more time, and realized her question was answered. There were still a lot of sparkles reflecting across the snow, but the diamond-studded starfield she had walked out to was fading. So that didn’t happen all day, just when the sun was right. She smiled, and felt the dry chapped skin of her cheeks stretch. She was so pleased she had seen that. She would look at the time when she went in, and maybe try to get out tomorrow morning, too. But maybe with a coat, she thought.  

She turned and looked at the house before trudging toward the door, trying to step in the same spots where she had broken through the snowcrust on the way out. Even the house was pretty in the snow, with snow on the roof and icicles from the awning. The kids’ stuff strewn around the patio – the bikes she had told them to put away before it snowed – were just soft mounds. It all looked and sounded so peaceful. 

She knew what she was walking back into. The Cheerios and milk were still on the floor, and maybe a broken bowl, from the breakfast that went flying over the fight about who got the Snoopy cup. The three older kids were already stir-crazy, and the snow day today was going to be full of whining and fighting. 

She grinned as she pushed open the door and could already hear two of them fighting over the TV and the baby crying from his crib. Maybe she would get out the bread bags and bundle everyone up, and they would all go play in the snow. It wasn’t that bad, after all.