The snow is still here from yesterday.
It is enough snow to close some schools, but not others. The kind of snow a seasoned winter-ist would scoff at – just a dusting!
The kind of snow that gives a phone-in radio host the excuse to exclaim “Why can’t we cope with a bit of snow, the rest of the world can?” The kind of peculiar, contradictory exceptionalism where he sees his country as simultaneously both The Greatest Country In The World and The Worst Country In The World.
The pavements aren’t too slippery, but the snow still slows everything down. Careful, careful. It slows everything down at a time when we’re all trying to get stuff done, before the holidays, before the real slow time.
There is a wonderful uncanny light, as the whiteness of the snow bounces back into the sky. Everything looks a little off, in an intriguing, enticing way. Blues, greys, whites, play off one another. There is a stillness, quietness too.
Some trees hold the snow, others sag from it. They are all immeasurably beautiful.