Monday night: first real snow of any accumulation. Three inches of silvery shining shimmering icy wet snow.
As we slumbered at midnight, the soft cold snow tumbled from the heavens toward earth, a million sparkling angels blessing the frozen earth.
First snow! The world is transformed in pristine beauty.
The snow takes away our breath.
We linger along snowy paths, our eyes seeing only exquisite etchings of silvery-white.
We’re at the gate of winter now. Maybe not in southern climes which more closely align with the Solstice and Equinox curves. But here in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula the first snow heralds Winter with a soft whisper of white.
It was good to tramp in the woods yesterday. Good to follow the icy branches wherever they beckoned. The bottoms of my jeans were soon soaked and I dug in the basement for the heavy Sorel boots and tucked the wet jeans inside them. Returned outside for more beauty.
Most of the day the skies looked leaden gray. The white etchings refused to twinkle like they do in bright sunlight. That was forgiven. First snow keeps us enthralled whether the sun shines or hides beneath dark clouds.
By last snow–in April or May–we’ll be jaded. Indifferent. Satiated. We’ll be ready for purple violets and wild leeks.
Yesterday we gasped in awe and fell on our backs to make snow angels.
It’s the only way to properly greet the season.
When do you expect your first snow of any accumulation? Does it enthrall you? Are you transported to childhood, to innocence, to joy?