‘I believe that my whole creative life stemmed from this magic hour under the stars on that hilltop.’

~ Ruth St. Denis

I love snow.  Big, huge, fluffy snowflakes that actually cover the ground, sticking to the leaves in the trees…  Muting  all artifice until you can’t help but hear the bird cry…

I love to be outside when it’s snowing — to feel it tickling my cheeks and eyelashes, to listen to its silence and all of the promises contained therein, to inhale that essence of transparency, purity…

I love first snows.  They may be among the most sacred experiences ever.  There is something amazing, magical; they overflow with anticipation, excitement, exhilaration…

To behold individual miracles dancing down with such abandon…  If you hold your breath, you have a sneak peek into the moment of creation’s transition — anything and everything can happen in that instant.

And the observer, also, is transformed by the encounter, in the opportunity to also be made different, new… all naïveté and curiosity, filled with wonder and joy and a million possibilities.

It is perhaps this quality of snow that always makes me think of fairy tales.

Do you know the story of Snow White and Rose Red?   A perfect story for any girl’s fantasies…  And the Little Match Girl; the Snow Queen; the Red Shoe; the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe… All of my favorite fairy tales taking place in the snow!

I think that, in my imagination, I even set other fairy tales in the snow, whether or not it’s mentioned… the Shoemaker, the Tinderbox, the Nightingale…  It is snow’s ability to usurp reality, to paint a whole new landscape – dreamscape – that makes it ideal for fancy, for caprice…

Much of my snow obsession is connected to my memory of course…Childhood hours, days, years spent in the snow, playing, laughing, dreaming…  But even my adult memories are filled with snow.  I can place most of the people I love in images of white…

Today, of course, I think of you.  The scene outside the window this morning the same as while I waited, thrilled, readied to see you on our first date.  A hike, an adventure, a piggy-back ride through teasing white expanses…

Actually, in my mind, I think of you as being nearly the same thing — you and snow.  I have the same sensations and reactions to both of you.

My sweetest, most treasured memories of you involve snow… hands touching for the first time, kissing you for the first time, hot-springing under the stars, skating in the dark, sleeping under ancient rafters, finding profound peace and tranquility with my head against your chest, seeing you in that mist sometimes left behind after the snow, talking of love and dreams, reading Proust while driving through a winter wonderland, savoring candlelit dinners and oatmeal breakfasts, loving, loving and so much love…

All a mingling of you, snow and lots of joy, wonder and delight.

Are you watching snow this morning?  Does it settle on the trees outside your window?  The eave above your door?

Do you hold memories of the same?  Music, candlelight, lavender… and the fairy tale ending we knew to be unfeigned?

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