I quite like the snow.
My hubby is not much of a fan, mainly because its presence coincides with shoveling our dangerously steep driveway at 5 am and then driving on slippery roads all day for work.
I have the same qualms about it that he does. When it’s still dark out and the driveway has a fresh coat of fluff, the west coast winter version of the Schroedinger’s cat principle dances in my head (is there ice under that layer of snow, or not?) It takes nerves of steel and some serious shovel elbow to just leave the house at times.
But it’s not all bad. There’s something about how snow makes the world feel smaller that makes me feel comfortable and safe.
It muffles voices and draws the mountains in. Everything feels closer and more intimate. I feel more connected to people and the world in general.
And when it snows we’re all so much more connected to our humanity.
Life becomes simpler – it’s about our shared quest for survival. People are more generous and considerate. They’re helping other people out (shout out to our neighbor Leo for snow-blowing our driveway) and leaning on their snow shovels, talking to their neighbors.
They’re connecting to each other, and that’s a beautiful thing to see.
You can sense the shared connection to a simpler way of being when it snows. All that matters is staying warm and safe.
While I often dream of summertime and the tropics, as the years pass I become more and more enamored with the seasons, and what they each bring with them.
Particularly when winter offers up a “can you believe it!?” snowfall in early November on Vancouver Island.
(PS: shout out to my momma who is basking in the Hawaiian sun as we speak. Your timing was impeccable as per usual. xoxo)