The sky delivered layer upon layer of 'champagne powder' the week we spent Christmas in Utah. On Christmas Eve, we spent a few hours frolicking out in the fluffy whiteness, building a snow man and throwing great, big snowballs at each other every chance we got. It was quiet on the street ... a sort of hushed sound that seems to occur after a heavy snowfall, where the sounds of the world get muted and buried a bit by all the snowy moisture. This scene was punctuated by the shrieks of kids who got pelted with someone else's snowball or lost their balance chasing each other around and unexpectedly found their exposed skin covered with chilly snow.
There was something magical about this space in time ... nowhere to go, nothing to do, except to enjoy each other's company and presence in a playful way. Sometimes when I have moments like this, I imagine having the ability to contain it's sights and sounds in a bottle, only to be opened at a later date when it's sweetness could permeate a gloomy day. One of the many reasons I love photography is that it can do just that for me. It can bring me right back to a day I thought I'd never forget, but unwittingly, almost did. Documenting my life through a lens reminds me to slow down and reflect on all of life's gifts ... and, thankfully, they are many.
Posted by Holly-girl at 18:28