Can we will it to snow.
I sit in my office looking out of a large window shared by several others, themselves looking out the window as a gentle snow falls. We have been anticipating snow fall for a few days so it was no surprise. The sky this morning said snow is coming and weather.com which has come to be the modern equivalent of the old farmers almanac confirmed it. About an hour ago the first halting flakes of snow were seen and like eager children, when one person noticed its descent a wave of excitement passed through all of us. Coats were donned and people rushed outside to feel the soft touch of a cold snowflake on their noses, as if each were a blessing from god. It lasted for a few minutes then stopped abruptly, as if it had never been. The blessings had vanished but the anticipation only increased as we put aside our work to stare out that window collectively wishing for snow. I have no doubt the window could feel the heavy, pulsating pressure of our wishful gazes. Then it happened! Somehow the physics of our combined wishing met with the force of our combined gazes and pushed through the glass out into the open air and snow once again fell, a little heavier this time, a bit thicker and its presence lingers on the pavement, the bushes and the automobiles parked outside. There is no hope for a visit by the arctic weather some places in the country received, which I suppose is a good thing. Nor do I have any reason to believe that this evening the snow will paint the landscape with peaceful white like some aged Courier and Ives print. Work will no doubt continue as usual tomorrow but right there and right now snow is falling and that makes me happy because it is snow and because with snow comes the knowledge that my beloved Guinny, a very special snow dog is out there saying hello and reminding me that those who are no longer with us are never that far away. This day I dedicate to that slobbering old, clumsy, attention grabbing Saint Bernard who sat on my feet the day we met and thus ensured that a girl then a stranger would become my wife. Thank you Guinny. Thank you for being you, thank you for being around and thank you for sitting on my feet so many years ago.