A Naif in the Forest by Darrell Berger

Wing Tips to Hiking Boots: Musings of a New, Full-Time Poconos Resident 

I could easily live the rest of my life knowing that the storm of a couple years ago, featuring a foot of snow and seventy mile per hour wind, was the worst I would ever experience. At the very least it enabled me to say of last week’s fifteen inches, ice and twelve mile per hour wind, “It was nothing compared to a couple years ago.”  

The contractor who plowed our driveway for years retired to Florida. The new guy’s first effort was good. We used our backup propane generator for most of two days and lost our internet for one. This is about par for a good Poconos’ snow, even though this one arrived early in the season. I tell folks, “It’s not too bad up here in the winter. We don’t usually get much snow until after the first of the year.” I will continue to say this regardless of the facts. I need this to be true. 

What else I think is true, but might actually be, is that the most dangerous snowstorms are often also the most beautiful. This photo captured yesterday’s at a moment of rare atmospheric confluence: the ice on the trees was melting, glistening. The sky was clear, sunny and deeply, ridiculously blue. The sun reflected light everywhere. The lower branches in shadow contrasted and emphasized the higher colors and light. 

Such a future holiday card photograph only happens during or just after a treacherous storm with particular confluences. Temperatures must dance above freezing and then below, melting snow and then freezing it. The sun must be blindingly bright, no clouds. The weight of the snow and ice bends branches or breaks them. Trees fall onto roofs and power lines, across roads and driveways. Stay off the roads. Stay indoors. 

Go into the forest. There is silence. No more power is needed. No need for a phone or computer. Be still. Listen to the trees groan under the weight of the season. The danger of the storm is on the road. The beauty of the storm is in the forest.