by Judy Elliott, UNH Cooperative Extension volunteer writer

It's been a splendid winter for snow accumulations everywhere in New Hampshire. While city dwellers groan about the big, ugly piles of frozen brown crystals, out here in the country our landscape is blanketed with several feet of white wonder.

Today my path is hard-packed and noisy as I head out for a quick snowshoe jaunt after lunch to get some fresh air and escape from household duties. Crunch, crunch, crunch is the only sound I hear on an otherwise quiet walk.

Crunching along, I recall that the trail provided more quiet solitude on past adventures because the snow was soft and deep. The only sound I'd hear would be my own breathing when I reached the end of a steady incline.

It's a crisp 20-degree winter day with a real-feel of about 10 degrees due to the wind. The sky is a brilliant shade of periwinkle blue and the sun is making a strong showing.

Lengths of royal-blue grosgrain ribbon hang discreetly from a tree trunk here and a low bush there. I placed them strategically so they'd blend in but also remain visible enough to keep me from venturing off the beaten path.

That roll of ribbon came down through the generations from a woman's clothing store and millinery in Franklin in the early 20th century. Though other family members had wanted to throw out the various materials left over from the hat-making operation, a lot of it was still in good shape, so I kept it, including the roll of grosgrain I rescued and recycled to create my "Blue Ribbon Trail".

I created the trail many years ago because it was close to home and offered easy-to- moderate exercise. Its narrow path winds up hills through densely growing conifers, around mighty oaks and stands of beech trees, and over frozen wetlands. Old boulders from centuries-old stone walls peek through the white terrain, reminding me that the landscape used to be open farmland.

In the past I've invited my husband along to help me identify animal tracks. We'd pass over the imprints of deer, moose, coyote, fox, and squirrels. He often wondered why I was so anxious to have him lead the way, but this blue-ribbon trail guardian knows a great bushwhacker and trailbreaker when she sees one, especially in knee-deep snow.

But frigid temperatures and gale-force winds of the past few weeks have turned my blue-ribbon trail into a hard pathway that rises a few feet above the ground in the woods. The trail is strewn with small branches, pinecones, and a variety of forest debris.

I take advantage of the peace and quiet when I stop to take a break. I lean against a tall granite boundary marker that may have indicated the entrance to a homestead or was a convenient stone post to tie up the family horse.

From my vantage point I marvel at how bright the daylight becomes when the sun reflects on rolling open fields of snow in the distance. The same solar energy warms my face as I enjoy the absence of sound. I treasure these moments as mini-meditations that allow me to connect with the essence of Mother Nature and all that she offers, no matter what the season.

I add speed to my mostly downhill return journey, invigorating my workout with a bit of interval training. The crunching of my steps becomes louder and faster. I watch for distinct landmarks and the discrete blue ribbons that lead me safely to my backyard.

Photo credit: kirybabe. Some rights reserved.