When There Is No Path To Tread

I walked out of my door just before dawn. This far off the main roads, the plows were unlikely to reach us for hours, if they even got to us today at all, and the neighbours wouldn't be up trying to dig out their cars and stoops for a little bit yet either. The world seemed to be at peace in stark contrast to the howling wind and blowing snow we'd had the night before. Everything was coated in a white blanket, glinting in the rising sun's light, with no evidence of any roads or paths to lead anywhere or towards anything.

With a roll of leftover Christmas ribbon in hand and an old pair of snowshoes on my feet, I made my way towards the woods behind my house. I knew that the hiking trails would be covered over too, which was exactly what I wanted.

The snow has a way of making the world new again, of bringing us back to a place where we have to stop and can't always get in the car and go wherever we have to go. Sure, eventually we'll clear all the roads and the hustle and bustle will begin again, but I always like to enjoy this lack of direction first. To venture out into a world where there are no paths and see where I end up.

So I tie a piece of ribbon to a branch at the edge of the treeline and venture where there is no path.