We got about eight or nine inches of snow in yesterday’s storm. While it snowed all morning beginning around 3am, the pre-dawn flakes were fine, like a sprinkling of glitter. The snowfall picked up in the mid-morning hours, enough that it necessitated a first-pass shoveling around 11:30. During the 45 minutes or so that I was out there clearing the accumulation from our sidewalk and driveway, the flakes became so large and the sky grew thick with columns of falling snow that the surface area I had shoveled was completely indistinguishable from the piles in its whitewash. Over the next two hours, the snow fell in clumps so large that you could reach out and pinch them and feel their substantive volume in your fingers. Ben and I went out and tackled the mess together after another five inches or so had amassed. Thankfully, we seemed to time our efforts well because the heavy snowfall reverted back to lighter flurries for the rest of the day, meaning he didn’t need to do one final round at night.
As I look all around me this morning, I see the snow has cast a blanket over everything. Some say, “it’s beautiful;” I say, “it’s ugly and boring.” Snow washes everything in the same whiteness. There’s no diversity of texture, color, or movement. It mutes life, dampens sound, and blurs nuances of hues. It smells wet, drab, and cold. Though this sounds so pessimistic, I consider it realistic. It’s also no big deal. Snow melts, seasons change, and in a few weeks, the ground will be soft and colorful. Flowers will be speckling the earth with vibrant shades of pretty colors. And hopefully, when that day comes, I’ll remember to be grateful and happy for the richness of natural beauty.