We had our first real snow today. I think we had some flicks of snow earlier this month, but today it snowed on and off all day. So the ground is wet (but no where near whitening). So this is my first day of snow…
I love falling snow. The gentle drift of flurries, the strange “pounding” of a hard storm, I love them. I love standing in an open field in a storm so hard that all you see is white (and half stalks of corn from the harvest). I love looking up, watching the light flurry drift to my face and then vanish in my warmth. I even love it when a few flakes slip past your layers and brush your neck, giving you a burst of cold in your bundled clothes.
I love the contrast of evergreens (both real and not) on white and red bows. I love when the snow is new fallen and I go to the barn and the fields are white and the horses are standing out in it munching on the hay or playing their lips in the snow. I love, on days I don’t work (or didn’t have school) pulling on boots and jeans and a warm jacket and walking before the paths are plowed, as if no one thought to walk this way before. Because for that moment, I was the only one.
I love the little secrets that tell you snow is coming, like when it’s cold and then the next day, the air isn’t so bitter. And there isn’t frost on your windshield. And the taste in your mouth when you breath deep. The taste of a snowflake, almost.
I love, bundled in my black pea coat, watching the snow flakes catch there and not melt, just hold on as if to say, “Take me where you’re going.”
I love how snow can make you feel all alone in the world, and it’s okay to be that way.
And I love in the spring, when the crocus are first to bloom and we get another snow, but they still blast their little bits of color through the white.