Lament For Snow

March 26th, 2007 by Potato

I hate the biting wind of winter. The extreme cold, and the constant vigil to be prepared with warmth, and food, and a surfeit of time when attempting to travel.

But snow itself is amazing and magical. The world is so still and beautiful at night when the snow is falling. I cherish those really still early winter nights when the snow flakes are large and fall so gracefully, yet it’s so quiet you can actually hear them landing softly on the ground, piling up all around you. The interaction between a snowfall and light pollution to make everything glow orange and purple in a completely etherial way. The harsh, pale light of a full moon on the snow-covered fields of the countryside? Never will you see a more perfect illumination of the world, the sharp distinction between light and shadow. To look out over the Straight or Lake as the snow-covered ice cracks and booms. In my dreams of heaven, it is illuminated by the full moon on virgin snow.

A fresh blanket of snow is the only way to bring innocence back to the world. It covers and conceals all the unsightly bits; it softens all the hard edges. Looking out at the untouched purity, you can know that you can race out there and be the first to explore this strange new world; or you can stand guard, letting this one patch in the corner of the world carry on, never knowing the bootprint of humanity.

I welcome the coming of spring, it’s youthful exuberance; I will delight in the sheer bounty of life that summer brings, the late summer evenings, and the freedom from layers and jackets, mittens and scarves and static buildup that the warmth brings.

But I will miss the snow.

One Response to “Lament For Snow”

  1. Wayfare Says:

    We live in London. It will snow again.