Hello, Dear Reader

Only those who are not natural to the snow might be able to understand the fascination I have with it. Having been born close to the Equator, I grew up dancing between temperatures that were all too similar. No seasons, no adjustment of time; just sunshine on the good days and rain on the best days. I assume it could be comparable to the fascination that people who are born in landlocked countries might have with sand and the ocean. And while I do agree that there is beauty to shimmering sands and the purifying clear waters of the ocean, snow (to me) is just unparalleled. 

The way it falls to the ground, ever so tender, ever so shy. The way it slowly accumulates the longer the snow storm blows on. The way the crisp winter sun reflects on it, casting an icy glimmer that is unique to itself. The distinctive crunch it makes at the friction of my boots when walking through a snowy field. The way it accumulates on the leafage of the English yew in my back garden, as if they were being tucked away for slumber under a mantel of white snow.

I myself try to understand this fascination, and I like to believe that it is the comfort I see in the snowy landscape that fuels it. The fact that such visuals are temporary and as of late, rare. It also reminds me of memories that are not exactly mine, but that are common in our contemporary society: snow means chaos, snow means school is cancelled for the day, snow means cozy stories by the fire. It is perhaps this imaginary of togetherness, the reminder of simpler times, that gives me the comfort I have when seeing it. 

It could be as well, the fact that snow brings (at least to me) the promise of new. When abundant, it reminds us that it is here, but only temporarily. That once the winter is over and temperatures begin to change, it will slowly give way to the landscape beneath it, giving way to the change of seasons and welcoming the long awaited spring. Perhaps this could come more from instinct than from feeling, as I am sure that modern-day winters are far more bearable than those of the past, but what else could I attribute the yearly feeling of victory over the winter once it is over? 

Then again, my fascination with snow could just be all the feelings and thoughts it evokes in me; a reminder of the beauty of simplicity and of the temporary.