Snow revisited

I was reminded today of this post from nearly two years ago. It's one of my favorites and I thought I'd share it again with a few minor changes...

Today it snowed. More than was expected I expect.

After lunch I'm walking back into the building. It's still snowing. I yield to the tendency to be annoyed as soon as the first bits get down my neck. Then I'm surprised that it didn’t stick. The annoyance, that is. I find that I'm happy and I can't help it. It's the snow.

Oh the snow! It's always tickled me. First snows are best, but any snow will do - gentle, playful downward dances. I could be coaxed into verse. 

Remember standing at the rail of a bridge looking into the passing water and getting the feeling that it's you moving? Ever notice how falling snow can do the same? Only instead of riding forward, you are lifted up? That’s just one of snow’s gifts. Snow is beauty. It is quiet. It is change.

How many artists have been inspired by snow covered hills, mountains and forests? Snow clashes with nothing and fits everything. Snow is nature and it falls upon God’s creations and mans. A grimy street, a meadow, a battlefield - all are blessed by this barren beauty.

Healing moments, enlightened thoughts and treasured memories all emerge as blankets of snow steal away the distracting sounds. Snow is cleanser that reveals the silence beneath. The clamors of wind and beast and machine - all prove weak against this patient power.

If I left tracks every day as I returned to work, normal days would see a strait, steady, solid set of foot prints . Today was different. Some solid lines, a few curved lines, and two abruptly interrupted lines were left in the snow as I did a little dance. Snow changes our walk, changes our mind, it turns us around, and it urges us home.

Snow is also a message. It reminds us to go slow, to look around, to enjoy ourselves - to play a little. Let’s listen. It’s in that delightful, mild, quiet little crunch – more felt than heard - beneath your feet.