September Snowfall

My cellphone gave me the first warning yesterday, as there was teeny little snowflake embedded in the weather icon that sits in the upper right hand corner of my phone. I stared at the little snowflake for a minute or two. "Can't be," I muttered to myself.

Oh, but could be. I remembered one of my co-workers who, on almost the same day a year ago, was traveling back to Naryn from Bishkek on a marshrutka and got caught in a blizzard on Dolon Pass. The marshrutka driver hadn't yet put snow tires on his vehicle, the vehicle couldn't quite make it to the top of the pass on the slick roads, so the passengers, at great risk to life and limb, were forced to jump out of the marshrutka and push it up over the summit. Oh, most certainly, definitely could be!

When I got out of bed this morning, I found that the snowflake embedded in my phone wasn't "can't be" but instead "UNDOUBTEDLY!"

Yes, there was snow: not in the distant heights of the mountains surrounding our campus, but directly in the foothills right on top of us. And when I went outside to take a picture of this frightening sight, I felt the cold drizzle had a bit of solid substance in it--rain and snow were mixed.

Winter in the Kyrgyz mountains is not for the weak or whining or for those unwilling to face the long haul. It is the season that defines this place in where I reside. And it defines the people who must endure this tough, unyielding season. Just as the herders have brought their animals down from the summer pastures, I must get my winter refuge ready. I have my supply of tea, provisions for baking hearty winter breads and cooking thick and heavy stews, my wool Canadian mittens and my warmest furry hat. And I must also search through the recesses of my soul for the spirit I must adopt to survive the six-month stretch of unrelenting snow and chill. Must I dig out my calm and peaceful, Zen-like countenance? Perhaps I need to find a fearsome, defiant spirit that can fight any adversary? In reality, I must find both as each day will determine which spirit requires summoning.

And as another year advances toward its finish, I gaze up into the hills and the dusting of snow upon them and I am startled by the majesty of this precious little planet. I realize, more than anything else, it is a spirit of wonderment and gratitude that will keep me going along the way.

The view from campus of approaching winter