January 27, 2022

    The trees line my vision, bare and dull. Leaves cling onto them like a child holding onto their mother for comfort. Tree branches tremble ever so slightly as the wind blows. My fingers are now red and trembling alongside the branches who are like our fingers, sprawling to touch the sky, wanting to do the impossible and to do more than we can. Now I understand when authors compare feelings to the frigid air of winter. Living in the desert, I never could feel the emotions behind those words, but sitting out here feeling the cold breath of winter feels like a hug from someone you don't know very well, uncomfortable. We pray for warmth but then we get it, it takes a little to even fully feel the effects of it. The warmth then feels like a hug from a loved one when you had the worst day of your life and all you needed was that feeling of safety and comfort.

A lone squirrel climbs up the tree in front of me and stops to rest against a branch. It's body curled in on itself like a blanket that was disregarded after its use. I wonder if the squirrel is as cold as I am. This weather makes me wish I was a squirrel, being able to run around with fur like a winter coat at all times. Snow covers the ground, unseemingly untouched by humans, sparkling in the sunlight. Animal tracks litter the ground like constellations. Everywhere but only a few can be linked together and make a story. As I look up towards the icey blue sky, I see snow topping the highest branch like a cherry on top of a sundae. The winter wind blows onto my fingertips as I write this down and makes me shiver. The squirrel catches my eye as I see it jump onto the roof of Eldridge Hall like a superhero running towards a crime that I cannot see so they can save the day. Or maybe they're running back to their family to tell them stories of the outside wonderland or the snowy wasteland, like an excited child telling their parents about what they learned in school. A small ache hits me in the chest as I think about the squirrel a little more, hoping they'll make it back to wherever they've made their home. The thought of the squirrel getting hit by a car or even falling off of something it was climbing spreads in my mind like the plague. I cringe at the feelings and quickly move to go back inside to try and find the warmth I've been craving myself.

January 28, 2022

    The sun shines bright off the snow and bounces into my small room as I open the blind to reveal the hill filled with trees that frame my window. The light is blinding like when you check your phone in the middle of the night to see the notifications from friends. When my eyes adjust to the reflection, I can see the tracks that line the bottom of the hill and I still can't tell what animal specifically had made them because I'm so far away but I find myself hoping that it found shelter and warmth wherever it is now. The contrast of the heater right against the cold window makes it seem like there's a portal separating me from the mysterious and frozen world right outside the window. The cold air hits me as I move closer to the window and I pull away from the window, shivering slightly; maybe it wasn't the time for me to cross over yet. There is dark brown bark that stands out from underneath the snow that's covering the trees like they've been tucked into bed for the night and haven't woken up all the way. A fallen tree catches my eye, it's roots coming out of the ground. It's being held up by another tree like a parent grabbing their child off the floor. As I stare longer at it, I wonder what could've knocked it over. If the tree had gotten too heavy for the soil underneath it so it just tipped over like your friend when they've had a few too many to drink or if something had knocked it over. The animals and the foliage around it are the only ones who would know that story, if maybe the tree drank a few too many and is now leaning against his friend for support or if it's just the course of nature taking another into the last cycle of its life.

When I'm finally ready, I step through the doors, exhale a breath and it comes out like a dragon's breath after he had just blown fire onto a trespasser. Although I know the route to class quite well, it's all new to me with the new dangers of invisible ice and even just stepping on the snow that wasn't captured by the shovels and thrown to the side. Like an adventurer crossing into uncharted territory, I plan each step carefully as if I'll set off a deadly trap if I make one wrong move. As I look back into the quad, I notice that the resident snow people are still there and there's now one sitting on the bench, staring out at the library. They're sparkling in the sun hoping not to melt like ice cream on a hot summer day. Without faces, it's hard to tell what their exact emotions are at the moment but I think they are grieving at the moment as the smaller one that stood on the left is now knocked over. They are dreading the day that they too will be crumpled and forgotten about like graded papers on the last day of school.

January 30, 2022

    Walking along the quad steps, I can see the snow people again but now they adorn faces and buttons; smiling without a care in the world. I laugh a little as they're oblivious to their fate of melting or falling over but they can't help from smiling like the Cheshire Cat leading passers by on their way into Wonderland. The amount of happiness that is radiating off of them seems to affect me as I straighten my stance when I see them. A small hint of child innocence from others brings a warm feeling like I'm standing next to a fire and about to make s'mores.  I turn and notice that there are footprints now in the snow, breaking up the old animal tracks from the past days. The thought of humans ruining another part of nature's natural beauty stings like a bee when they are protecting their hive.