When we travel we see the world through a different lens. It makes everything look new and exciting, because, well… we are seeing things that are new and exciting. But I also enjoy viewing the everyday world through those same eyes. I try to see things the way a traveler, or perhaps a child, would see them. Preferably one who had never been here before, and might never be able to return. One who had only heard stories of this strange landscape, but never imagined they would see it with their own eyes.
Which brings me to a footprint in the snow. Not the kind of snow that brings joy to children for a day or two and then quietly vanishes leaving nothing but green grass and flowers behind. I’m talking about serious snow. Cold snow. It has a very distinctive sound when you walk on it. Some people describe it as “walking on Corn Flakes” but that isn’t quite right. (Not that I’ve tried walking on Corn Flakes lately, but you know what I mean.) When snow gets very cold it has a “crunch” but it also has a certain “squeak” to it. A bit like the sound of a clown making balloon animals, or perhaps like twisting Styrofoam. You could also describe it as a combination of all three. Or you could just say it is the sound of snow. Hear it once and you will never forget it, and you will know exactly what I mean.
Today was one of those days. Sunny and cold. And when it’s that cold the air is dense, making everything sound crisp and pure. The snow had that familiar crunch. The sound almost assaults your ears. I love it.
I don’t always succeed, but I try to see the world that way as often as I can.