Rainbows in the Snow: A celebration of life’s journeys and discoveries through words and photos

By Cheryl Landes

Journeys come in different shapes and sizes. They aren’t necessarily a trip from one point to another. They can be the experiences along the way, such as a transformation, a realization, a discovery, or a resolution. Rainbows in the Snow is a celebration of these journeys through stories, photos, and an occasional haiku—from a cat diffusing a heated conference call to a conversation with a bored ten-year-old during a ride on a ferry.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tabby Cat Communications
• Release date: Jan 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989545018

Book preview

Welcome to Rainbows in the Snow

Snowshoeing is my winter hiking. When I lived in Massachusetts from 2001 until 2006, I often snowshoed in Wachusett Meadow Wildlife Sanctuary, a Mass Audubon property in Princeton. I rarely saw anyone wandering these quiet, snow-covered hills and meadows with beaver lodges scattered along the shores of the frozen ponds. I never saw any beavers there, though there was plenty of evidence of their presence left behind in tree trunks half nibbled or sawed through by their sharp teeth.

Along this trail, the sun’s rays often reflected in the ice crystals. When the angle was just right, little prisms of rainbows projected in the ice. I loved seeing them but could never capture them on camera.

These tiny gifts inspired the title for this book. My goal is to celebrate journeys by sharing stories about the transformations, realizations, discoveries, and resolutions along the way. I hope you enjoy these stories and photos as much as I enjoyed creating them for you.

To making many rainbows,

Cheryl

A snow-covered trail at Wachusett Meadow

Wildlife Sanctuary in Princeton, Massachusetts

Beaver lodge in Wachusett Meadow Wildlife Sanctuary

A tree trunk partially cut by beavers’ teeth

in Wachusett Meadow Wildlife Sanctuary

Sunrise

Early this morning, I sit on the bed at a guest house in Laugarvatn, Iceland, and watch tiny, low white clouds slice through the late October darkness. Higher in the sky above the west end of the lake, a giant blob glows like molten lava. The ragged orb doesn’t reflect in the lake. If I hadn’t arrived here before sunset today, I wouldn’t know the lake exists because it blends into the darkness. I can’t see the source of the light. I ask whether it’s intentional, and the radiance intensifies. Maybe I don’t need an answer. I will savor this magical moment, be grateful I’m here, and greet the sun in three hours, when it will push the clouds away and guide me on a new adventure.

Another morning in late September, I wanted to watch the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean but didn’t know where to go, so I rose in the darkness and drove more than an hour from central Massachusetts to southern Maine, then exited the interstate and followed Route 1 through coastal towns, chasing signs to popular viewpoints, lighthouses, and beaches. Although the scenery in the early dawn light was beautiful, nothing spoke to me. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for until ten minutes later, when I parked at a small beach near a wildlife sanctuary. The red-orange sky reflected on the waves and sand, and grass resembling wheat danced in the wind, celebrating the arrival of a new day. I joined them.

Another morning in early-September, I stood in the dew-laden grass at Dancing Spirit Ranch in Montana and watched

Sunrise in Laugarvatn, Iceland

Sunrise reflections in Hot Lake near La Grande, Oregon

the sunrise. The rays cast gold in the ripples in the small lake in front of me and on a wooden canoe tied to a weathered dock. A pair of paddles waited inside the canoe, beckoning me to row to the other side, but I didn’t accept the offer. Despite standing near the shore in soaked shoes and socks, I wanted to enjoy this peaceful scene as long as it lasted.

Another morning in early October, steam rose from Hot Lake in northeastern Oregon, generating fog in the nippy air. I stood behind the cattails, watching the sun rise slowly as it tried to break through the clouds and reflect on the lake. A flock of ducks and a goose glided near the edge of the lake opposite the geothermal springs. I wanted to stay here longer but it was time to go home.

On mornings when the rain sleeps on the west side of Oregon and Washington, the black silhouette of Mount Hood appears in front of a yellow, orange, red, and purple layered canvas. The sapphire water in the Columbia River flows from the bottom of the painting to my vantage point in Vancouver, Washington. These sunrises are always a treat after long stretches of cloudy, misty days that nourish the earth and among the many reasons I call this beautiful place home.

Sunrise near Biddeford, Maine