Pak 'N Boots


Concierto Pic 5

The winter and me are well suited for one another. Contemplative. Brooding. A bit melancholy, but brutally honest, and crystal clear with our intention!

The gentle, yet relentless snowfall outside my window is mesmerizing; like a perpetual snowglobe! Magic!! My breath fogs up the pane as I stare, expectantly, out the window like a small child waiting to catch a glimpse of Santa and his reindeer on Christmas Eve. The gliding, shimmering flakes of white; a serene, captivating, winter wonderland.

Yet, it is not Santa that I seek. It is my own fragile, ghostly image.

I think winter speaks to me because I am cracked and broken; like shards of icicles, pieces of me that have sheared off and shattered to the ground. My body creaks, and moans; rattling in it's cage like branches set reluctantly free from their leaves.

In the harsh warmth of the sun, my rough edges melted; liquefying my insides; making it impossible to put things back into their proper place.

Now, the vast, wintery, harsh cold is melding all those pieces of who I am meant to be, back imperfect fit. Cracks and fissures showing, but, whole...It's been some time since I felt so solid.

Here, with the elements banging at my door; entreating me to dive into their mystical, carnivorous depths...this, this is living. Encapsulated in the death of the season, I am vibrantly, alive. I have caught glimpses of this version of myself on my travels to windswept vistas, or as I traversed inclement marshes; buffeted by rain, sleet and snow...but those were only glimpses of my true nature. Healing journeys, yes, but not lastingly so.

Here, in this mountainous winter region, I can feel myself planting roots in the earth; hard-packed, frozen, snow-covered earth. The difficulty of planting making it all the more precious. The seeds of this ethereal garden are smothered, blanketed, awaiting spring, but I do not want that season to hurry in it's blooming. In fact, I would put off spring until next year, if I thought the nature spirits would allow me control of that fate...;-)

The winter and me, we are just getting reacquainted. And, I want to wallow in the snow for a bit; capturing fluffy white clouds, burying myself, absorbing the muffled, peaceful quiet of the frost-bitten season.

Spring will come soon enough. Plants will grow. And, I will re-emerge from my hibernating space,and my snow angel, impermanently imprinted on the frosty surface, will thaw long before then...

Yet, leave an impression on winter?....I will...



Written by


Independent Producer/Director focusing on stories with strong social and cultural messages layered artistically and musically to create a unique multi-dimensional experience.

4 Comments to “Winter & Me…”

  1. Grover E. Criswell says:

    I am deeply touched by your words and the spirit with which you greet what many complain is a dismal season, the harsh cold parts of the year that have to be endured, a survival contest at best. I see it also as an inward time to reflect and embrace the dark sides of life that help us appreciate the light, the quiet time to hear ourselves better without outside distraction or bright colors and sounds that want our attention.

    • Karen Karen says:

      I believe that my “love of winter” harkens back to my childhood. Tunneling through mounds of shoveled snow from the streets, racing downhill on the sled behind our home, at what I was sure was breakneck speed; hurtling towards the creek, only to have my father (you!) deftly turn us at the last minute….and skating on the stillness of a frozen pond. How beautifully serene it all was; breathing on the window panes, and drawing pictures in the fog of our breath; running outside and diving on to our backs to create snow angels, and then jumping back to our feet to pummel each other with snowballs. We would get absolutely frozen through and through, then come inside to warmth; food, love, and laughter. Winter, to me, feels like home. It represents all of what was safe, and right with my world when I was young. Thank you for gifting me so many winters to remember. I love that I got to grow up slowly in the seasons, one winter at a time…it has prepared me for more growing now, encapsulated in this amazing, quiet place…Much love!

  2. Theresa Bryant says:

    Thank you, Karen for sharing this with us. As always you have captured the beauty of life and its changing seasons. All too often we tend to miss the voices of silence in our busy daily goings. Thanks for your words and the beautiful photos. So glad for your happiness and the precious person that you are. Mom

  3. Catherine says:

    We are all cracked and broken, seeking to be whole, through the love of nature, the love from others (we are so fortunate to have), and, most importantly, the love and care of our own true self. Thank you for reminding us of that constant journey with your musings!

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