S.N.O.W.

I don't think the word "snow" accurately describes how awesome it is. You have this glorious invention of God that comes down at a leisurely pace and changes everything. Regardless of how dense it might be it always seems like it's strolling along, like each flake is walking hand and hand with their romantic counter-part on some cosmic journey to the ground below. The only time we really think of snow as being violent is when we're driving. But then we get out of the car, look around, and realize it's not so bad after all. We've been worrying about this devastating thing that's nothing more than water that's a little colder than it's used to.

The best thing about snow, though, is it's ability to change, as I said. Colors don't exist in snow because everything changes to white. I drove today from Lynchburg, Virginia to Johnstown, Ohio. The trip started off with no snow, no ice, but bright sunshine and fairly warm air. The further and further I ascended the cooler it became and the thinner the air felt. There's some sort of refreshment that comes from thin, cool air when it hits your lungs and your body has the shock that feels like walls being erected against some invaded force. Then when you finally expel that air you see the invaded forces being repelled by this weaponry of foggy breath, spreading out in all directions. I love when it's so cold you can see your breath. It's almost like a unique signal to only God knows what. Other people? The trees? God himself? Whatever our smoke-signal-like breath is it's unique, if nothing else.

The further I departed north the more colors began to fade. The browns of trees, the lighter branches, the emerald grass and the black road began to become grey-toned. Eventually everything just became white. With darkness settling in the ability to see colors at all lessened especially with the white particles hugging closely to every fiber of creation. For just a short amount of time, everything is the same. The World becomes almost like a communism of creation where all is pure, all is true and everything is equally lovely to look at. I long to live in this world where seldom do we see color, but always the white pure look of this colored glass that dances down to the ground where it makes its home for a short time. Only long enough for our eyes to take in its beauty and then before we know it, the greens have returned along with the tall browns and tans, soon to be sprouting green offspring of their own. Upon which will soon perch blues, reds, and even orange spheres with their darkly colored wings, singing for us their anthem of color.