The Beauty of Falling Snow

Lucy going off to investigate the snow drifts.

Snow can really be annoying.  I was reminded of this fact as it was snowing and I had to take my dog, Lucy, out for a walk.  Snow is cold.  It’s wet.  It’s also a hindrance, meaning more work for the weary, in the form of snow shoveling, maneuvering on icy roads, and a storm can even disrupt the power.  As a kid, I used to like it.  But now, as I cussed at the sloppy glop, I wondered what I ever saw in it, and stopped a moment to see if I could still see the bright side of things, the beauty of falling snow. 

I’m from Minnesota, so I’m no stranger to snow.  In the winter, the temperature can drop down to  –30 F below (dangerously cold!) and the snow usually stays on the ground all winter until it melts with the spring thaw.  I now live in Washington State, where the winters are milder, but when it does snow, it comes down in big, wet flakes. 

To a kid, snow on nice days is an exciting playground, abundant with the prospect of fun.  It’s a winter wonderland brimming with snow angels and snowball fights, the making of a goofy-looking snowman, of snow forts and ice sculptures.  It also means the thrill of speed, by the means of sledding and ice-skating, skiing and snowmobiling.  And, if the sunshine hits the powdery kind of flakes just right, they glitter like gold.  I have fond childhood memories of gathering my gold dust into my sand buckets, but like most fanciful dreams in life, my treasure was fleeting. 

I’m an adult now, and gone are my sledding days.  I see the world through more analytical, rather jaded eyes.  I studied the offending mess surrounding me… 

Still, it is kind of pretty… 

Snow falling in the woods.

Snow is one of nature’s most refined displays, when all the land is covered with a pristine blanket of white.  It brightens a gray day with a light that flashes in the eye.  And, the air smells different—crisp and pure—the chill bringing an invigorating tingle to the cheeks.  The trees in these deep woods are like sculptured works, their barren branches heavy with glossy ribbons of ivory—even the towering pines bow to the mastery of the artist in the sky above.  A distant screech of an eagle comes softly to my ear, and then it’s quiet… a peaceful quiet—aside from Lucy. 

She likes snow, since it obviously is a joy to bounce through, and it holds a good, intriguing scent.  She was having fun… 

For just a moment I was a kid again, climbing those snowy hills in search of adventure… 

I guess there still is a beauty to falling snow, after all. 

Let it snow!

 Lorelei:)