Our first snowfall of the season. I woke up to find the earth covered in white. I threw my coat on and went out to start the car, feeling the exhilaration when my breath caught the sudden shot of damp cold on my feet. There was only a thin layer of snow, but as the soft center of my arches fell into each step, the snow reached out like a hand and grabbed my feet, one at a time, teasingly releasing only to grab again.
I put George’s green stripped sweater on him and carried him to the car. We drove to the park and got out to walk along the river. George was hesitant at first to get out of the car, so as I stood on the snow-covered pavement coaxing him to join me, I wondered if I could bear the combination of frozen mud, melting-to-the-touch snow, and packed, icy leaves for the duration of the walk. He jumped out of the car before I decided to turn back, so two bare feet and four padded paws ventured down to the river.
The air was still, no wind was blowing, and the nighttime darkness still lingered in the sky so the atmosphere was that profound silence of winter isolation. George and I walked, our steps the only sound, magnifying the fact that we alone occupied the land.
Walking warmed my torso, and my hands, tucked inside my coat pockets, remained toasty warm. Only my face and feet experienced the cold – air on face, wetness on feet. A strange combination of physical sensations – I observed, as if from afar.
George pranced along, more interested in sniffing than anything else. To him, the cold earth was nothing more than an uncomfortable inconvenience. When he stopped to explore something more, he picked up one foot at a time finding temporary relief. I understood because I found that if my feet kept moving, I could enjoy the surge of energy that shot through the base of my feet into my whole being, but if I stood still, I felt cold and I didn’t much like that.
Every now and then I hit a patch of mud that was squishy, but most of it was sharp and hard. The leaves were smooth and slippery. The soft snow fell away as I walked. I watched the ground, mesmerized by the constant arising of surface and the way it made me feel, not only where my feet landed, but all through my body and even into my mind.
I’ve been a barefoot walker all my life, but never before had I tried it in the snow. I’m glad I did, and I’m glad for George because without him, I’m sure I wouldn’t have gone to the river this morning, and certainly not barefoot.
By afternoon the sun had taken the white away from the earth and left us only a very wet outdoors. Weather reports are calling for rain, then freezing rain, so I don’t know when we’ll get our next chance to barefoot in the snow. Will I try in freezing rain? I don’t know.
