ORIGINALLY WRITTEN ON 3/31/11 Don't Know Why I didn't Post . . . .
There is a moment of joy I have when waking in the morning and pulling up the shade to reveal snow. And I really don't care if it is November or April, that moment is still exciting and welcome. I understand the general weariness of most people. It has been a pretty long snowy winter and there is something to be said for the warm sun and daffodils. But more and more, each winter, I find myself longing for the snow to stay. And come back. It's illogical. Generally when people are older, and, yes, I'm going to have to admit that I am-- "older" now. There is less tolerance for snow and the accoutrements of winter. But I feel my best, my most "me" when I am wearing boots and a thick wool sweater. Cold makes my blood move, it keeps the lines in the atmosphere crisp and defined. The snow crunching under my boots is the sound possibility, of wonder, of mystery-- to me. Rodgers and Hammerstein must have felt this way to include "snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes" as a favorite thing. I know the feeling-- that is one of my favorite things as well-- that cool diaphanous breath of flakes on an already chilled cheek. Snow, I know that many people around here wish you wouldn't be here. But me-- I say bring it on.
There is a moment of joy I have when waking in the morning and pulling up the shade to reveal snow. And I really don't care if it is November or April, that moment is still exciting and welcome. I understand the general weariness of most people. It has been a pretty long snowy winter and there is something to be said for the warm sun and daffodils. But more and more, each winter, I find myself longing for the snow to stay. And come back. It's illogical. Generally when people are older, and, yes, I'm going to have to admit that I am-- "older" now. There is less tolerance for snow and the accoutrements of winter. But I feel my best, my most "me" when I am wearing boots and a thick wool sweater. Cold makes my blood move, it keeps the lines in the atmosphere crisp and defined. The snow crunching under my boots is the sound possibility, of wonder, of mystery-- to me. Rodgers and Hammerstein must have felt this way to include "snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes" as a favorite thing. I know the feeling-- that is one of my favorite things as well-- that cool diaphanous breath of flakes on an already chilled cheek. Snow, I know that many people around here wish you wouldn't be here. But me-- I say bring it on.
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