So far it has been a perfect winter, with snow that clings to the trees when it falls, snow that sparkles. We have a new back-saving snow shovel, and the use of a driveway to clear with it. We have snowshoes begging to be strapped onto our feet, to help us glide and float and flop through the woods.
Oh how I missed the snow when I was in Georgia!
But really, right now I’m just thinking about being out there on the sidewalk. I took the dog for a tiny walk a little while ago, and there was snow falling. It’s been falling all day, and I clicked a bunch of photos when there was daylight. It’s different at night, though. Only one car went by, and the snow makes everything more silent, and I have a cold right now, so the silence entered the strange pressure I have in my ears and nasal passages and soothed it a little bit. I felt sort of purified, as fresh-snow has a tendency to imply with its whiteness, even though each crystal is formed around a speck of dirt. It’s not late enough in the winter yet for me to start feeling depressed about the lack of color outside. Right now it’s just a sense of calm and beauty, and I’m grateful to have that. Very grateful. Sadness is too eager to jump me.