Wednesday, November 14

WAITING FOR THE SNOW

About once every three days, I get the urge to move somewhere.  Somewhere far away.  Sometimes it's Oregon.  Sometimes it's Ireland.  But then sometimes it's the Dominican Republic.  Or Greece.  Or Barbados.  And to be honest, the only reason I would really want to move somewhere like DomRep, Greece, or Barbados is just so I can have constant warmth.  But like I said, that only surfaces every so often.

The truth is, I like Michigan.  Deep down, I crave the change of seasons.  I enjoy the burst of energy I get with the onset of spring.  I adore going to the beach in the blistering summer heat.  I love shuffling down leaf-covered paths, enveloped in the crisp scent of autumn.  But most of all, I'm positively addicted to clean, pure, freshly-fallen snow.  

It's about this time of year when I get a little antsy waiting for winter to arrive.  The temperature begins to drop as quickly as the leaves, the days are growing shorter, and the house feels warmer and cozier with each quiet evening.  But it's not truly winter yet.  The world is still, colorless, dead and gray.  Night seems to come too quickly with each passing day, and the earth becomes dark and dreary.

And then the snow arrives.  The snow comes, and it covers everything.  Where the earth is cracked and broken, the snow will lay itself over those places and seal up even the smallest of faults.  The dry, dead leaves will all be concealed.  Every roof, every flat surface, will be made soft and white.  Icicles will glisten on barren branches of trees, bringing a celestial light to an otherwise skeletal form.  Stark, still nights will become softer once filled with falling snowflakes.  The deafening silence of a late-autumn night will be transformed into peaceful quiet on a winter's eve.

The snow comes, and the world looks different.  You'll find yourself gazing out through a frosty window on a snowy night, in awe of the silent majesty of a perfect snowfall.  When the snow arrives, there are no more crumbled, brown leaves.  There is no more dead earth.  Nothing is torn, cracked, or broken.  The snow comes, and the world is a beautiful mess of white.  The snow comes, and the once-gray eyesore of late autumn is forgotten.  Light is no longer a harsh interruption to the dark earth, but rather a soft glow upon a pillowy environment.  The snow comes, and all the noise of a crying, dying earth is silenced.  The earth is not dead, but merely asleep, curled up beneath a blanket of snow.  The snow softly pads its subjects, creating the illusion of a smaller, closer, less lonely world.  The eery stillness is washed away by magically luminous snowflakes spiraling downward through an ebony sky.  The snow arrives, and with it comes a peaceful bliss that settles over everything it touches.  The snow comes as a signal that a new year is about to begin.  It's as if every ounce of pain, sorrow, and regret in the world is wiped away by the snow, leaving a blank canvas for a new year.

It's easy to fall into a "late autumn" funk.  Mind and body, your whole self is exhausted from going-going-going, and you begin to channel the earth in feeling gray, dismal, cracked, broken.  Sometimes you just need a little snow.

Photos courtesy of Art House Design

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