Snow

It's snowing again today. I woke up this morning...well, late morning, and went to let out Mazzy to use the restroom. We both kind of stood at the door for a second adjusting to the new blanket of white that had been gently tossed over everything. Small, swirling flakes were still quietly adding to what had already landed.

"Son of a bitch!"

I found myself surprised that it had snowed so much without my knowing, which, in and of itself, is surprising. You think I'd be used to it by now. But there is something alarming about going to bed in one world and waking up in another. You feel like you've been snuck up on.

"Damn snow. You got me again."

If I wake up early enough, if the sun has yet to rise, I can usually tell it has snowed even if the blinds are closed. All of the light shining from street lights, houses, the moon, and the stars is reflected off the snow and things take on an odd and spooky glow as if the world has been turned into the negative of a photograph. It's light, but you can't tell where the light originates. Everything glows a weak rust color and resembles the set of a Tim Burton film. The trees are silhouettes with just the hint of texture and my mind can't seem to fully adjust to the fact that I can see much better than I logically ought to with the sun still tracking across the sky on the other side of the planet.

Early morning is definitely the best time of day after a fresh snow. It's a quiet, gentle blue and the stillness of the world under it's antiseptic blanket of white gives you the sense that you may be the only thing moving. Sounds are muffled by the softness of the white all around you, the plows haven't yet dredged up the filth of the streets below, and tires and footprints haven't scared the surface of the perfectly finished frosting surrounding you. It's lonely, but in a beautiful way. The frantic energy of work, errands, and travel has been buried and for a few serene moments the only thing of any importance is that you are alive and that the world can be still.