Featured above is my favorite scene from White Christmas, a song I hummed all the way to work.
Today I am celebrating the magic and wonder of water in its crystallized form, a.k.a snow. Today many folks will bitch and whine about the inconvenience of the weather, their energy will be spent cursing a phenomenon that I think is one of the best blessings life has to offer. And today Philadelphia will transform for a suspended moment in time into a pristine white canvas, a fresh new beginning. There is nothing like stumbling upon a felid of untouched powder and having the opportunity to make first tracks. This past weekend I had such a chance. I made a snow angle and figure eight pattern with my feet as I trudged to and fro. The following day I looked down at the field from the vantage point of a bridge and saw the outlines of my passing melting in the grass.
This morning I walked to work clad in snow pants, a ski jacket, mittens and a hat. Actually, I half slid like I like do across hardwood floors with socks on, and half walked to work. I kept my face turned up towards the sky most of the way because I love feeling the snow pelt against my skin; a tantalizing sensation that wakes up the nerve endings and makes me feel alive. Right before I got to the office, I spent two blocks trying to catch snowflakes with my mouth. This is a tricky endeavor. First, there is the task of looking straight at the falling snow without blinking, and then selecting one snowflake to follow as it haphazardly makes it way down. If I catch it in my mouth I am triumphant. If it lands in my eye I give a point to Father Sky. These snowflakes are wayward and keep me on my toes. I circled around to try to catch one and caught a guy from across the street looking at me with furrowed brow and a critical eye. I explained,
“Catching snowflakes, my breakfast of champions.”
I saw his stern face crack into a smirk as his chest puffed a little up and down in the direction of a chuckle. He shook his head at me as I continued to walk. I was tempted to double dog dare him to do the same, but I refrained.
Calvin knows what I’m talking about:
A Warrior Princess