Nemo came, and blanketed my entire town with a heavy layer of white stuff. The streets are pretty much empty, and a lot of sidewalks are still covered in a two foot layer of snow.
Ah, snow. I don't exactly know why I love it so much. Maybe because it is beautiful, the flakes, and the effect it has on the world. One day, the streets are busy, and it is all just a mess of concrete and cars and people surging through the streets, intent on getting somewhere, anywhere. The next, everything is simply just white, pure, and beautiful. The streets seem lonely, but that's just because the people are stuck in their homes, warming themselves with blankets, hot chocolate, and a book or computer or a game of scrabble with their family. And when you finally venture outside, and you are blinded by the whiteness, and you feel the gusts blowing the flakes against your face, and your cheeks are becoming rosy red, and you feel alive. You breathe in and the cold air whistles through your lungs, and then you breathe out, and you are a dragon.
Maybe it's the fact that it stops the world for a second. It gives you a break, a reason to stay home and in your pjs and take a day to yourself.
Maybe it's the world of entertainment it opens up. Sledding, snowball fights, sculptures, and half-finished igloos that take all afternoon. Making a snow angel, getting soaked to the bone, and the satisfaction of going inside again, stripping off your clothes, and taking that steaming hot shower you waited so long for.
Maybe it's the delicate balance between solid and liquid.
Maybe.
All I know is that I love this snow.
