Let it snow.

With the northeastern section of the country getting blasted by wintry weather, I have snow on the brain. I suppose I am guilty of romanticizing snow, being some nearly nine years removed from having actually seen it with my own two eyes, beyond one fantasy-glimpse of it against street lights last Winter--much less shoveled or attempted to drive in it. That's what time & distance afford us: the opportunity to filter out the parts we don't wish to recall, leaving a picture perfect memory remaining.

Perhaps it is also the Christmas season that has a Winter wonderland dancing through my mind's eye as well. As much as I don't miss the slush and the sodden grey-brown mess that gathers along the edges of the roads, I would love to step outside into a world of sparkling white for just a while. When you have "real Winter" year after year, I think you don't realize that parts of it don't exist under any other circumstances, that just cannot be replicated.

For example, the muted hush. I've never heard sound dampened like this anywhere else in nature. The snow seems to absorb almost every noise, dialing it all down to a quiet murmur, not much more than a whisper really. There is a peacefulness all its own in this muffled stillness. I remember walking through the snow, the only sound that really seemed to register was the squeak-crunch of the snow itself beneath my footsteps. (That squeak-crunch is another sound I've never heard anywhere else.) In fact, in the very stillness, I could almost swear I heard the actual snowflakes landing as they drifted down from the heavens.

Along with the hush comes another favorite characteristic: the softened edges & colors of the world. The fluffy blanket draping itself over all the stark jagged edges of a November landscape in little puffs & drifts, curling around tree trunks, layering itself over matted brown grasses. There is nothing left harsh or lonely when the snow perches merrily on its surface. And while the snow itself sparkles & glistens as the wind & sunlight play with the white upon white, dazzling the eye like so many piles of diamond dust, it seems all else takes a humble supporting role, allowing the snow to shine alone. The shadows are a pale lavender. The sun warms the world to a soft rosy pink in the morning & gives it a vague golden sheen as it begins its descent. And with nightfall, the snow itself seems to emanate a gentle blue, glowing from within, enhanced with color or golden creamy white when Christmas lights are hidden beneath.

Snow makes the whole world appear filled with wonder & awe. I remember that it never got old, to peer out my window, greeted with a world wrapped in snowy white delight. And since I no longer have to bundle up & burst into the frosty cold to clean off my car or clear a path, I am content to let it snow in my mind & remember just its beauty.