I didn’t grow up around snow. And the times I’ve seen it fall I can count on one hand, usually while driving through the mountains and the absolute last thing I wanted to be encountering. But sitting here this morning I just stared and stared, completely mesmerized at the lacey curtain of white descending from the heavens, and I wondered if there’s anything that transforms a landscape like snow does. It is magical the way the sky lowers itself right onto the earth, smudging the line between it and the hills and mountains, gently releasing millions of one-of-a-kind crystalline flakes, brush painting everything in a soft blanket of downy white. And it’s more than just the visual. There’s a feeling to it, especially when it falls as quietly gentle as it did this morning. I could feel it in my bones, and it rang in my spirit; the peace, the tranquility, the stunning dream-like otherworldliness of it.
After two hours it stopped, then turned to a soft rain. It’s surprising how quickly the rain drops melt the snowflakes clean away, leaving me wondering if I'd dreamt it all. But it’s okay. It was everything I’d hoped for moving up here. Plus it looks like it will clear up in time for me to make the drive to the bay area this afternoon.
Perfection. All the way around...
(...well, except that blogger has totally changed how everything is done and I'm having a hard time with it... i.e., pictures no longer fitting in the boxes... ugh)