Snow is coming down like hard rain, lilted sideways and coming down fast (if a little tipsy) outside my window. The ground is already covered with white from days of the powder so today's onslaught is only adding to the beauty.
The beauty of snow is strange. In some ways it's a rugged beauty, the beauty of the frontier and hard scrabble survival. In others, it's the delicate beauty of silence, cold, and stillness, like a thin blanket which hugs the world.
Snow's beauty is fitting given it's constant companion cold. So many people I talk to (myself included) say that cold is only justified by the snow. It's touching how snow somehow completes the cold, like of our friends complete us. I like to think snow reins cold in, that without the snow cold would get carried away and freeze everything.
But maybe snow and cold aren't friends. Maybe snow is really rain that came down as a sacrifice for us, to stop mangy old cold from freezing us all and instead froze in our place. As I watch the snow outside my window, I know that is not the case. Snow does not act like a dying man, but jubilant child. Snow dances and kisses and flies. Today let us join in snow's dance.