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A Frosty, Mountain Morning

This to me is a moment of pure bliss…..

By Rebecca Lynn IveyPublished 2 years ago 4 min read
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Stunning free images courtesy of pixabay.com

It's an abnormally chilling and bitter morning in the mountains. Even for November, it's uncommonly frosty and chilling outside. I'm standing by the kitchen window tracing hearts on the foggy glass, my steaming coffee provides an adequate, soupy canvas for the exhibit.

The frost comes as snow without cloud, bringing a brilliance to the dawn. The last of a cold night's song, reflecting the dance of the sunshine in every direction.

Through the misty fog I can make out a family of deer sauntering across the field. A majestic buck leads the way, carefully scouting out a safe passage. I can sense that he is a courageous, brave and protective leader. Following close behind is the doe with long, powerful legs, a diminutive tail and dark, darting eyes. She takes only a few, short steps before stopping, and patiently waiting for her fawns. Their light, spotted fur is keeping them well camouflaged in the tall winter grass.

This is such a rare, and precious sight. I stay close to the window, and watch them until they are out of my sight. Slowly sipping the piping hot coffee as it wakes my soul with each sultry swill.

I absorb the warmth coming from the fireplace allowing it to penetrate deep into my being. The sweet birch firewood has a unique smell. It gives off a wintergreen aroma when its burning. It's a slightly sweet smell which I find to be pleasant and comforting. My favorite cashmere sweater has been warming up next to the fire. I enswathe myself in the extremely soft, toasty wool. I am inspired by this simple comfort, and luxery. Taking a deep, uplifting breath I step outside into the wintery scenery.

I am awestricken by the beautifully frozen backdrop before me. Tiny crystals of ice cling onto all that exists. Thick blankets of frost cover the trees as the ground sparkles with a million frosty diamonds. The ice has a shimmering glow, as if born to reflect morning light.

I realize that the trees surrounding the cabin are like my family: I depend on them for their strength and shelter. I find myself most happy, and at peace when I am amongst their comfort, and seclusion .

I smile as I spot a fluffy, grey squirrel lolloping through the clearing relaxed, and unaffected by the shivery, cold temperature. I pause for a moment and observe the carefree happiness. I wonder where he has been, and what amazing sights that he has witnessed during his adventures through the frosty woodlands.

The river appears still, yet she flows under the thinnest of ice, awaiting the gentle touch of the sun. I choose not to see the blanket of ice but the waters that remain deep and moving, ever onward. Even on the coldest, and most wintry of days, I see the sparks that remain even when the world is frozen.

Gentle snowflakes begin to land on my face, lingering for a brief moment on my eyelashes. I stand beneath the fragrant pine tree, and admire mother nature as she prepares one of her most grand exhibitions. Like a child I giggle, and tilt my head toward the sky; waltzing, and gavotting within this magically, whimsical winter wonderland.

Before I head back to the warmth and comfort of the cabin, I stop and fill my mouth with pure, fresh snow that is clinging to the pine. It is the flavor of winter - herbal and sweet.

I take notice to the small footmarks left by wildlife as I tread through the snow, continually stopping to gather fresh pine cones. I plan to bake them in the oven, and drizzle them with fragrant cinnamon oil. They'll make a nice, aromatic decoration reminiscence of this most perfect morning.

(Make your own Cinnamon Scented Pine Cones)

I shiver as I enter the warmth of the cabin. I see the flames dancing in the fireplace. The smell of wood and the crackle sound as it burns. A dancing glow bathes the heart of my home, and I am instantly invited to curl up on the couch with a book, and a cuddly blanket. The warmth lulls me into a cozy mood and maybe a little snooze.

Winter arrives, upon this cold day, and I feel the calling of my own warm heart, as if within these quiet moments I find my home-song, an icy serenade, a coolness to bring out the warmth within.

This to me is a moment of pure bliss…..

Thank you for reading my story "A Frosty, Mountain Morning" if you enjoyed this one, you might also like to read:

The End of Fall

An Old-Fashion Christmas

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About the Creator

Rebecca Lynn Ivey

I wield words to weave tales across genres, but my heart belongs to the shadows.

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