Winter's Grace

by Vicki Kensinger

[Originally published in the Winter 2026 issue of Mount Gretna Magazine. View the full issue to see this story in its designed layout, complete with additional images.]

Photo by Shannon Fretz Photography. Gretna's lake in winter.

The streets of Mount Gretna have a magical feel after a snowfall. With a fresh blanket of softness tossed over the village, the already quiet season feels even more hushed. The rhododendrons so many of us cherish catch the accumulation in their outstretched arms, with the snow highlighting their grace. Hemlock and pine boughs bow under the weight, while each delicate needle is traced to invite wonder at the intricacy.

Objects passed by without a sideways glance during a summertime walk, with all of its green busyness distracting or hiding, suddenly draw your eye. Every surface seems to beg your notice — the line of a birdhouse roof, the detail of a cottage trim, the finialed tip of a lamppost, the wreathed head of a fairy — as if in the covering they are at the same time uncovered.

Even the concrete can become a wonderland. I remember the time my granddaughter marveled, with sparkling eyes, at the way she could see the individual snowflakes, likewise sparkling, in the sunlight that was kissing the snow-covered basketball court in the Chautauqua.

Mostly, it is the silence here in winter that invites a complementary interior one, the slowing of activity that evokes a quieter attention. Except for the plow — which is both welcome and always too soon — mechanical noises are stilled.

Something in me realizes I have been holding my breath for such stillness as this, recognizing how the background noise in my life has prevented me from hearing. It’s like when you are living with physical pain, and suddenly, it is relieved. You realize just how loud that pain has been in your life, how much energy you have been expending to manage it.

Some find the season of wonder to be the holidays of December, but, for me, this quieting that unfolds and blankets the earth in the weeks and months following those busy days soothes and fills my depleted spirit.

A slow walk through the magic of a fresh January snowfall allows me to also take that gentle walk through the inner terrain of my life — to notice what I have been trampling right over or ignoring in my beeline, summertime pace from here to there — to wonder at the intricate grace

of life.

These delicate details, which I fail to acknowledge in my ordinary way of (not) seeing myself, are in fact stunningly exquisite. Even that which I want to label as inelegant in myself is seen afresh, with a gaze such as this. They are the rough edges I want to despise, blanketed in gentle curiosity and compassion, the raw and ragged edges softened.

May you have space in your own life for such softness this winter, for slow walks and quiet noticings, for attending to what has gone unnoticed or unloved for far too long, for reclaiming the beauty of who you are. May you accept winter’s invitation to stop chasing the light and to notice how it is sparkling right where you live. May your eyes see with amazement the delicately woven patterns of your own life, blanketed by grace.

Vicki Kensinger is a lover of the healing power of the written word and the natural world. Her daily journaling practice takes her into the wild terrain of the inner landscape, while her wilderness excursions carry her deep into the backcountry of Ontario via canoe. Mother of five and Gaga to 10, she lives in Mount Gretna with her husband, Don. She blogs at EmmaatLast.wordpress.com and AnAlgonquinAffair.wordpress.com.