Snow and wind always bring me into Laura Ingalls Wilder’s writing. Her descriptions in The Long Winter of following the rope to the barn or trying to get home from school as a blizzard hits and almost ending up lost on the prairie, saved only by a chance bump into the wall of a building. Of townspeople’s meager rations because the supply trains cannot get through the snow drifts, and twisting hay into sticks to burn in order to cook and to have some warmth against the chilling winds.

I made up my mind to go for a walk yesterday afternoon, after being inside all day and watching the snow blow across the pasture. The cold wind made my head hurt, even swathed as it was in underarmor and wool. I only meandered a quarter-mile, but keeping my head down to avoid the worst of the gusts, I can see how easy it would be to lose my way. Returning to the house, I was glad not to have to twist sticks of hay to burn for heat! The strength and perseverance of those pioneers inspires and humbles me.

Today everything is still covered with that layer of ice and it is shiny with the pink glow of early morning. Advent, arrival, anticipation-the season of the most incredible journey ever conceived.