Falling snow was pretty--and soft--and everything was quieter when the snow was falling. It was magical to wake up to a world of white, glittering like diamond dust on all the trees and bushes. Snow made everything different and beautiful. Even the taste of it on my tongue was a delight. I enjoyed studying the snowflakes that fell on the sleeve of my coat and on my mittens. I wanted to see if each one was unique.
I don't remember being cold.
Then I grew up. Snowstorms create problems. Now I worry about whether we'll lose power. I worry about my nearest and dearest driving in the snow. I worry about heavy ice on tree limbs. I worry about slipping on the ice.
But I still think snow is pretty--oh maybe not as pretty as spring flowers or autumn leaves, but I like to take photographs of the snow. It is cold, but when I put on extra layers I don't feel the cold as much.
Snow can be dangerous, but to me, it's still magical. I am still in awe of the perfection of the snowflakes that land on the sleeve of my coat.
What do you think of snow?