We spent a couple of days last week in New Hampshire. Our dearest friends generously let us stay in their house for two nights. It snowed heavily the second night. On the third day I went for a walk by myself in the new, deep snow. In one secluded bower of trees I fell to my knees and, overcome with something I can’t name, bowed my head. And then I looked up, all around, absorbing the beauty of this undisturbed corner of the world, that was mine alone to see covered with fresh snow. And then, as I trudged back to the house, I stopped to make a snow angel.