A thick blanket of white covers both ground and sky, offering few glimpses into the colors of life yet to come with a new spring. The clouds break enough to see into the outside world in a flash of blue, only to be gone again in an instant, while the energy of life remains trapped in the ground under a layer of bitter cold. The air bites and howls at all who go out in it, freezing water, blood, and skin alike. The sun offers neither light nor heat to comfort Earth’s inhabitants at this time, glossed over by nature’s cold shield.
That silence of a landscape with fresh fallen snow. The pleasure of finding out that it packs so you can make snowmen and forts. The beauty of the dusted trees. The dangerous brilliance of a frozen lake. I don’t see the weight of the mountains of snowfall that has to be shoveled. I don’t feel the haste in trying to dig your way out to a frozen car on your way to work. I shovel the walk, sweep it clean, then salt it safe. I relish in the sound of icicles breaking from the gutter and shattering on the patio. I awe at everything in its snow covered ghost. I inhale deeper just to watch my breath cloud in front of me. And I never wear gloves in the hopes that my hands will become cold enough to see a snowflake’s shape before it melts on my skin.
Your point of view changes everything.