What is it about the snow that seems so serene when in fact it is a ferocious assault on modernity and our modern conveniences. Is it because the snow appears as a soft blanket? Or perhaps that it is a pure white--until the salt and sand, dirt and grime of modernity darkens it? For better words, I turn to one of the greats, Emily Dickinson (#942).
Snow beneath whose chilly softness
Some that never lay
Make their first Repose this Winter
I admonish Thee
Blanket Wealthier the Neighbor
We so new bestow
Than thine acclimated Creature
Wilt Thou, Austere Snow?
Despite all of our efforts, nature always has the last word, and of course the best. The cool winter air, swirling for a day with snowflake upon snowflake, and now with white clumps falling from the trees, should instead of being an inconvenience, be a source of delight. We can do without our cars and computers for a few days. Let the bright, white snow be a calming blanket. Take in its serenity.