The moment I see snowflakes and the sky is a swirl with flurries my heart rejoices. I anticipate an onslaught of flakes not sure what will come or how long it will continue. I don’t access my weather app because that makes me think about snow. I just want to feel it.
If it’s the kind of snow that prevents any travel, and I have to hunker down and wait, it’s an instant holiday. Holy because it’s an arrival that ‘feelingly reminds me of what I am’ in a Shakespearean sense. I am humbled because I surrender to the curtain of feathery flakes that in toto stop all of nature.
But when it stops. That’s something else. The silent thunder of a universe of snowflakes descending and ascending at the same moment, like Jacob’s ladder full of angels ceases to move. The gradual cessation of flakes and motion leaves me standing in wonder. I cannot move. I don’t want to move. I want to stand forever in the eternal moment of rest.
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