I love the snow. It's my favorite weather, especially during the storms where the wind is calm, and the flakes are big and plentiful. I love the storms that drop inches in hours, the ones that bury your car by lunch when you've dug it out by breakfast time.
I was having a conversation with a friend this morning about snow and rain. I prefer the snow, but she prefers the rain. My thought is that when it snows, it feels like God Herself is wrapping me up in a blanket, quieting the world around me, slowing it down, gently nudging people to spend time with friends and loved ones and stop avoiding them. It's different from the rain, which I feel is how we cleanse ourselves, as if God opens up the heavens and washes our troubles away. I think that's great, too, but there is something very inviting about the snow. Maybe it's just memories and feelings. I remember eating pizza in the dead of winter in an empty house, my mother gone, my dad asleep, and waiting excitedly for a new episode of Deep Space 9. I remember waiting for my son to be able to come home from the hospital. I remember thinking I could have died climbing Mt. Democrat with Ryan... in the end, the snow kept me feeling safe, secure, guarded. I don't know what it is, but I love it.