Yesterday morning I woke up early and, like a small child, couldn't wait to see what surprise the night had delivered to us. As predicted, we had a massive amount of snow on the ground. I could hear the wind howling and see the snow blowing around outside our windows. I turned on the tea kettle and grabbed the TV remote. Not too surprising, there was no signal on the TV. The satellite dish was covered with 10 inches of snow and could not receive a signal. Bingo! There was my excuse to go outside. It was not quite light yet when I pulled on my husband's snow boots and his big Carhart jacket. My pajamas completed the ensemble (you will have to use your imagination on this one, there will be no photos!). As I stepped outside the quiet hit me. I mean it was so quiet I could hear myself breath the cold air. The wind had died down and was making the slightest whisper through the trees. Tiny ice pellets mixed in with the snow and made a soft tinkling sound as they hit the ground. I lumbered over to the satellite dish (about 20 yards away from the house) and used my gloves to wipe it off. As I turned to follow my own footsteps back to the house I heard a tree limb crack in the woods. I stopped. I listened. The sounds around me were so muted I had to pay close attention to hear them. No traffic. No animals scurrying about. No vehicle noise from neighboring farms. I closed my eyes and just felt. I felt the snow/ice pelting my bare face. I felt the wind tickle my hair as it blew around me. I felt the cold air on my cheeks. I opened my eyes and noticed the fluffy snow piles on the trees and roof top. I watched the tops of the mostly bare trees sway from side to side. It was almost like I was the only person in the world. I turned in a small circle oh so slowly, to take in the moment. My little corner of the world was at peace. It was beautiful. It was quiet. I knew I was being blessed to experience this early morning wonder. I did not want it to end, even as I longed for the warmth of the house. It was one of those moments that you remember for the rest of your life. I like to tuck these times away in my memory bank for when I need solace and calm. This is the third such moment I have had in the last 10 years (one was in the mountains around Custer State Park, one was on an evening boat ride on Thomas Hill Lake). As the day progressed, many frustrations and obstacles were placed in my way. The electricity went out, my computer didn't work our tractor got stuck in the muck etc, but I had been centered. I only had to close my eyes to remember the white and silent world I had been part of that morning. It was mine and mine alone. My moment of beauty on a 50 acre plot of land, in the Midwest, during a February snowstorm. I am grateful for the rare experience and will hold it in my heart and mind forever.