Loving the beautiful world

The air bit her cheeks and scorched the inside of her nose with cold. The sky was coldly blue and the whole world was white. Every blade of grass was furry with frost, the path was frosted, the boards of the well were streaked with thick frost, and frost had crept up the walls of the shanty, along the narrow battens that held the black tar-paper on.

Then the sun peeped over the edge of the prairie and the whole world glittered. Every tiniest thing glowed rosy toward the sun and pale blue toward the sky, and all along every blade of grass ran rainbow sparkles.

Laura loved the beautiful world.

—The Long Winter, Laura Ingalls Wilder

I reread this book every winter, when the snow comes and we settle in for the long, hard slog before spring. I love Laura’s stick-to-it pioneer spirit and Pa’s fiddle music, and the depictions of that terrible winter in De Smet remind me that it could always be worse. (Though after three feet of snow in the past week, I am dying for a getaway to somewhere warm – an option the Ingalls family certainly didn’t have.)

This scene comes before the hard winter begins, when Laura goes to draw water from the well on the morning of the first frost. Even though the frost has killed the garden, and Laura knows that prairie winters are long and dark, she can’t help but catch her breath at its beauty.

As I fight my way through the ice and slush over here, I’m taking every glimpse of beauty I can get – including the glint of sunlight on snow. Even though it’s frigid today, scraps of blue sky like the ones above (spotted in Harvard Yard last week) are saving my life.

Like Laura, I love the beautiful world. (Though I’m ready for it to be a little warmer.)

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