It falls gently. Blowing and dancing about in the wind. In the light of the street lamp, it glistens and floats about in a scatter.
It's one of my great loves. Cold, frosty, wet, no-two-alike, drifting to earth at a sedate speed of around 3 miles per hour.
I find such joy in the quietness of watching it snow.
I don't know when the fascination began. Only that I could not, would not, ever live where I couldn't have snow. Especially in the month of December.
I only recall that it brings to mind many pleasant memories.
One Christmas eve, with all the family here, here in my home. A few of us stood on the porch step, right outside the door. Reluctant to go back in to the noise. Savoring the quiet, unhurriedness that is snowfall. We watched it fall from the dark night sky. The sound of the city just enough to give background, not enough to overpower. Inside, people chattering, laughing, the sounds of many different conversations colliding to make a not altogether unpleasant white noise.
It's the moment when time stands still. Your mind is free to move in any direction. We didn't talk to one another, each lost in our thoughts. I can't say what the others were thinking, or even if they would remember it. I know that for me, the moment was spent imprinting it into my memory bank and enjoying it's sweetness so that it could be savored for many other snowfalls to come.
I'm ever grateful for the moments God gives me to step back, savor, snap a "memory-graph". Quite often I find myself retreating, not physically, but in my head, and taking in the scene.
I'm also thankful that we are now in the season where this opportunity should present itself often.
I imagine it looks very much like the Israelites manna that came from heaven.
Don't hate me for my love of snow.
It really is God's sweet gift to me.
