Snowshoeing At Aurora Chalet: A Cozy Winter Sleep Story

The world can be a busy place,

Sometimes that's a good thing,

But it can also mean that winding down at night is a little harder than we'd like it to be.

That's what the Aurora Chalet is for.

The chalet is a gentle sanctuary,

A place for racing minds,

To slow down,

And for stress to ease.

Tucked away on a snowy mountainside,

This winter retreat offers a wide array of relaxing activities to while away the hours with,

And cozy corners to read,

Or doze,

Or dream in.

The chalet also offers a one-of-a-kind service.

You can leave anything that's on your mind with the staff for safekeeping,

A kind of coat check for your worries,

So that you can enjoy your time here without holding on to any stress.

Take a few moments now to get comfortable in your bed or wherever you are planning to go to sleep.

Arrange your blankets so that they're nice and comfortable.

Flip your pillow over to the cool side,

And close your eyes.

Let the image of your room at the Aurora Chalet come into focus in your mind's eye.

Your room is on the second floor of this three-story mountain retreat,

Nestled in a grove of thick,

Many-bowed spruce trees.

French doors open onto a private balcony,

And through their windows,

You see that night has fallen.

The sky is a deep,

Still,

Navy blue.

The darkness is broken by silvery starlight above,

And the flickering orange of a bonfire or two below.

It is deliciously cold outside,

And perfectly warm inside.

A fire crackles in the little stone hearth in your room,

Casting merry light on the homey,

Honey-colored wooden walls.

The smell of cedar permeates the air.

The bed is so comfortable,

Piled with quilts and pillows.

You take a few moments just to breathe and let your muscles relax,

Enjoying the serenity of this space that is all yours.

When you are ready,

You walk over to where a thick cord hangs from the ceiling.

It is made with red and gold silk,

And it feels cool and sleek and lovely to the touch.

You pull the cord and hear a gentle chime sound,

Soon followed by a knock at the door.

You open the door,

And in the hall,

A kind-faced attendant has arrived,

Pulling a pretty vintage tea cart.

The cart is made of burnished cherry wood.

It has two small wheels in front,

And two larger,

Spoked wooden wheels at the back.

It has a long wooden handle,

Worn very smooth from years of use,

Which the attendant can use to push or pull the cart wherever it needs to go.

Atop the cart is a small silver tray,

Covered with a silver dome.

From the shelf below,

The attendant removes a basket,

Hand-woven from willow branches.

It is empty and quite deep,

And though the willow gives it a delicate look,

It is very sturdy,

Made to carry heavy things.

This is part of the service at the Aurora Chalet.

You can place anything that's on your mind into the basket for safekeeping.

Any worries,

Or stresses,

Or lingering thoughts that might get in the way of your peaceful mind can go inside.

Don't worry,

The basket is large enough for all of them,

And the staff will keep watch over them for you.

They'll still be there when you need them,

Though you might find that some of your worries have dissipated by the time you go to retrieve them in the morning.

You might picture taking them one by one,

Perhaps seeing them as small boxes,

Or parcels,

Or rocks,

Or other objects.

Take a moment to place each worry,

Or anxiety,

Or nagging thought into the willow basket now,

So that someone else can take care of them for a while.

Once you have finished,

The attendant places a willow lid atop the basket,

And secures it on its shelf.

Then,

The silver dome is removed from the platter atop the cart,

To reveal a handmade ceramic mug of your favourite warm drink.

Rich hot chocolate,

Perhaps,

Or perfectly brewed coffee,

Soothing peppermint tea,

Or beautifully spiced mulled cider.

The aroma is comforting,

Wrapping around you like a blanket.

You pick the mug up,

And hold it in your hands.

Feel the smooth texture of the glaze,

And the warmth from inside the mug.

You thank the attendant,

Who pulls the cart along the carpeted hall.

You linger in your doorway,

Enjoying the taste of your drink,

And breathing in its scent,

Thinking about what you would like to do next at the chalet.

There are many options,

Something for everyone who seeks a bit of peace and comfort.

Intrigued by the suggestion of bonfire light that you saw through your window,

You make your way down the wide staircase,

And through the lobby,

Constructed of large grey stones that sparkle with quartz crystals.

Past the game room,

Where several guests are enjoying a quiet board game and a chat,

You hear a wisp of their conversation.

Did you know that in Finnish,

The aurora borealis are called revondulet,

One of the guests asks?

It means foxfire.

You wander past the music room,

Where someone is plucking out a wistful melody on an old but well-maintained upright piano.

You make your way past the kitchen,

Which almost stops you in your tracks when you catch the scent of baking bread and something spiced just right,

Along with the sound of kind laughter,

All beckoning you in.

That might be for another night's exploration.

For now,

You head out the heavy mahogany backdoor.

There is a little bit of magic at work in this place.

You never need to worry whether you brought your parka or waterproof boots,

For as you step outside,

You feel warmth settle around your shoulders,

Covering fingers and nose and tips of ears,

So that you can enjoy the brisk winter evening without becoming cold yourself.

Your gaze lands on several sets of snowshoes and cross-country skis,

Lined up and ready for guests to use.

A trail cuts through the snow before you,

Leading into the nearest copse of pines,

And you think that perhaps you'll explore a little.

The trails here are perfectly safe,

Even at night.

The same magic that keeps you warm,

Also protecting you from any pitfalls you might come across.

You choose a pair of snowshoes.

The bent wooden frames are shaped like ovals that taper in the back.

Inside the frame are strands that are criss-crossed and woven expertly,

Providing light,

Sturdy webbing that will keep you above the snow.

You strap the snowshoes onto your feet,

And take a few moments to find your stride.

Your gate is a little wider than usual,

The area of each foot suddenly rather larger than you're used to.

But as you take a few steps along the trail,

You find a comfortable rhythm.

You have to slow down in your snowshoes.

Your pace becomes meditative,

Deliberate.

You're aware of the soft thump of the shoe touching down onto the snow,

But not sinking any deeper,

And the whisper of the cool breeze over your cheeks as you walk into the woods.

The quality of the night changes around you once you are among the trees.

It's darker here,

For one thing,

And also a little warmer,

A little more protected from the elements.

The scent of pine needles is invigorating and soothing at the same time.

Somehow your vision feels sharper,

Too,

As though you can see each branch,

Each needle,

In silhouette.

It feels very alive.

You move so quietly now,

Listening to the creatures of the forest going about their nightly routines all around you.

A flash of a bushy tail along a tree branch alerts you to a squirrel,

Who stops to chitter at you before hurrying home.

The beating of wings tells you that a bird is nearby,

Out for an evening meal perhaps,

Or heading back to a cozy nest.

You walk for a while,

Letting the trail guide you and take care of whatever direction you need to go in.

The restful sounds of the pine grove is all the company you need,

And then the trail brings you out into a snowy alpine meadow.

You can imagine how this gently rolling land must host a profusion of wildflowers in summer,

And perhaps you should come back here then to experience it.

But now,

In winter,

The meadow has a different kind of beauty,

One of stillness,

Of pristine snow sparkling under the stars,

Of a quiet kind of wonder.

Out of the shadows of the forest comes a very fuzzy fox.

Her coat is pure white,

And if you weren't looking closely,

You would be forgiven for not seeing her at all against the white snow.

She is so light a foot that she can skip along the snow's surface without sinking,

No special footwear required.

You feel a rush of gladness to see her.

She pads out into the meadow,

Black nose twitching and fluffy pointed ears alert.

She pauses,

Scenting something on the wind,

And then turns to look at you.

Her eyes are bright and intelligent in the starlight.

She doesn't seem too concerned about you,

Simply letting you know that she's aware she's sharing the meadow with you tonight.

Then she lets out a loud yowling sound,

Something that might be jarring if you weren't watching so closely.

Instead,

It feels like just another part of your serene evening,

And soon you hear an answering yowl carried from far away on the winter wind.

She yips joyously and dances across the snow,

On her way to meet her friend.

You wonder what foxes get up to for fun on a cold winter night as they streak across the snow.

And as you contemplate turning around to head back,

Movement above you matches the movement of the fox below.

And for a moment,

You can only stare in wonder.

A ribbon of green light is rippling across the sky.

The aurora borealis,

The northern lights that the chalet is named for.

The dark blue-black of the night sky becomes a velvet backdrop for wide,

Undulating bands of purple and green.

They take over the sky,

Three-dimensional,

Prismatic,

Moving almost as if alive.

The stars peek through them as they move.

Their shifting display of beauty steals your breath.

Below them,

Your fox companion leaps over the snow,

Nearly at the tree line now across the meadow.

You think back to that conversation you heard.

The aurora borealis,

Northern lights,

Revendulet,

Foxfire.

As the display of rainbow light ebbs,

You feel the lateness of the hour,

The drowsiness of the world around you,

Your own drowsiness in harmony with it.

You make your way back along the path,

Brimming with wonder,

Content.

And in no time,

You find yourself in the snow-covered clearing behind the chalet.

As you take off your snowshoes,

You see several fire pits,

Each alight with cheerful,

Inviting flames,

And you remember that this is what first drew you outside.

Large round logs have been hewn into seats that ring each fire pit,

Long sections of log to cuddle next to someone on,

And shorter sections set on their ends like stools.

An attendant is never far away,

Tending the flames as needed.

The snow crunches as you walk over to a fire pit,

Perhaps one where others are gathered if you wish to share some conversation,

Or perhaps one that you can have to yourself,

Enjoying your own thoughts and the sounds of nature around you.

The crackling of the fires,

The gentle wind playing through the pine boughs,

The far-off yip of your fox and her friend.

You take a seat and find a soft,

Plaid woolen blanket ready for you,

And you exchange that little bit of magic from the chalet for the blanket,

Wrapping up in its warmth and enjoying the combination of cool winter air and the fire's heat on your face.

You smell the fresh pine trees,

The crisp snow,

The burning fire logs,

And something a little bit sweet.

In the sky,

Wisps of colour remind you of the aurora you and your fox saw in the meadow.

This world is a beautiful place,

Filled with moments of loveliness and connection,

Of surprises big and small,

When you have the chance to look for them.

Beside you,

A cluster of wooden sticks have been arranged,

Along with a little table with a bowl of fluffy marshmallows,

And plates of graham crackers and pieces of rich chocolate.

You realize the sweet scent on the air is from other guests roasting marshmallows.

Perhaps you choose one to spear onto a stick to hold in the fire's heat,

Finding just the right combination of toasty outside and melted inside.

Or perhaps you simply enjoy the scents and the sounds and the sights around you.

You can stay out here as long as you'd like,

Wrapped up in your soft woolen blanket,

Warmed by the fire,

By quietude or company,

Watching the trees sway in the wind,

Tending to the kindling and embers in your fire,

Picking out familiar constellations,

Or making up new ones.

Whenever you wish to return to your bedroom,

It's waiting for you.

But for now,

You savor this moment,

And let your mind drift away with the tendrils of smoke from the fire pit,

And the ribbons of light in the soft,

Dark,

Night sky.