The Power of Traditions

Picture by Christopher Talbot Frank //www.allposters.com/

Just yesterday I was walking on a newly laid carpet of autumn leaves. This morning the ground was covered with snow. Usually by the first snow the trees are barren, the leaves have blown away, and the snow rests on skeletal branches. But this morning with trees still full of golden leaves the snow on the branches was thick and bent the branches low as if they were bowing to their king.

Snow fell softly the whole three miles and the morning shone brighter than usual because the approaching dawn reflected off the fallen snow. In short the morning walk was absolutely magical.

I love the first snow of the season. That’s why decades ago I started a family tradition that on the day when the first snow occurs that sticks to the ground I make cinnamon rolls for the family. Years ago all my children’s friends caught on to the tradition and showed up at my house on the first snow. I loved it and I miss them. This year the only child I have in town is my son, but he’s already talked to me to ask when the cinnamon rolls will be coming out of the over. Since I teach today, it won’t be until evening, but he’ll be there—I am assured of that.

I wish more of the family were here to enjoy the tradition tonight. But despite the fact that most of them live far away I know that when it snows wherever they are they will think of me and cinnamon rolls and the great times we had around the kitchen table laughing and celebrating not the snow, but family and friends.