It snowed all day today, March 10th.

This event was met with dismay by every other human that I know – but not by me!

Why can’t I get enough snow?  I’m not ready for winter to be over…

(I haven’t said this out loud to any other person).

The writer, Rick Bass
understands what snow can mean, does mean, to this human be-ing (me).  I was reading his Winter (notes from Montana) this afternoon as the big flakes fell steadily and silently down.

Continually. Rhythmically.  Silently. Magically.

Bass writes from his perspective as a native Texan of his first Montana winter and his immersion in snow:

“I’ll never get used to snow – how slowly it comes down, how the world seems to slow down, how time slows…                                       I don’t mind the cold. The beauty is worth it”.

“I watch individual flakes;  I peer up through the snow and see the blank infinity from which it comes;                                                    I listen to the special silence it creates.”

“I stand outside in the snow for long periods of time, in the middle of it, looking out:  I cannot believe I am so rich,              getting all this snow….                                                                        Everything’s so quiet.”

“It’s more like an afterlife.  I never dreamed I would live in a hard country away from people, with such quietness.”

Re-reading, then typing his words, helps me to understand why I’m hanging on to winter and to snow.  I crave more of that special silence, that feeling of richness, that comes in the sweetness of falling flakes and under the snow blanket they create.  Even with the slowing of time, the season went so quickly, too fast.

Spring will come and I will relish the unearthing and the rebirth all ‘round.  But not yet.  For a few more days let me feel all the depth, serenity and solitude of winter.