Snowday

Friday it snowed. Saturday I went out to take some pictures of it. I absolutely love snow. I don't ski or snowboard, it's unlikely that I'll ever successfully snowshoe and thanks to a head injury in my late teens (which also happily resulted in a nearly constant state of bliss) I'm not going tobogganing again any time soon. I don't enjoy the sports and recreation of winter, and I'm not actually a big fan of the cold. But I do like how snow transforms landscapes.


And I like how the sun takes it sweet time to drag it's gaseous ass out of bed, and ducks out from work early when the boss's back is turned, gives us celestial right to do the same. I like how everything is slowed by slush and shadow to a thoughtful crawl. I like how nature lays a smack down on technology, and with all our marvels we must heed the "I don't think so" of her inclinations. I like how we have to slow down.



We had a lot of snow where I grew up, mounds of it. Snow banks up to four feet tall were common by roads, on the patch of public grass or ditch that separated the road from the side walk. You see these green strips in the suburbs but not downtown. In small towns, they’re nearly everywhere. You could hide from cars, spy on them. They made perfect siege walls for snowball fights, stuff of legends. These were often frozen on top, flat, and you could run along them at super hero height. It's a big deal when you're seven.


Snow banks by parking lots could have a warren dug out in them for careful children, who would smooth the walls with water to freeze and help the forts endure, pepper them with treasures and listen for snow plows, getting out before machines could wall you in.


Heavy snow, and I remember ice and drifts and windows done over by frost, turning ever room into a chapel of grey and glittering light. This was my childhood in winter, so these are my memories in snow.


Not every place in the world curls up to sleep for a season, but I'm glad I live in one. The care we have for each other carries us through, and I think that's a good thing to be reminded of.


The world turns inward and so can we, fortify our insides and get ready for another year. Select which seeds to plant in the coming weeks, plan what we choose to harvest. Physical seeds, metaphorical seeds - which ever. Whether the plan is to grow a cabbage, strengthen a career, dust off a resume, plan an escape - whatever. Imbolc is the time of year to do that, to identify and plot and scheme and prepare for the life we want.


I'm glad we had a snowy Imbolc this year, that I have good memories of snow, that I have friends to love to see through and see me through icy times. And I'm really glad I got the big container of hot chocolate. I think I'll grow parsley and roses and a documentary this year. But there's still some time to think about it, the snow is still thick on the ground.