in a january heat wave
I was on my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth before heading to bed when, passing by the giant window on the second floor overlooking my house's front foyer, I noticed that the storm meteorologists promised us had started already.
Storm is a bad word for it - something so beautiful shouldn't have such negative connotations.
I went downstairs and, after checking the temperature outside by my kitchen's thermometer - a perfect 0 degrees - put on my winter coat and stepped outside. I lingered for a few moments before feeling silly and heading back inside, with the intention of getting a cigarette so I'd have something to do while standing on my porch and watching the snow fall. I wanted to grab my camera as well so I could maybe capture a few shots, but couldn't find it, remembering later that my mom wanted to get some pictures developed and must've taken it.
I went back out and watched the snow fall. I planned on only staying a few minutes, but after a few minutes had passed, felt compelled to stay longer, so I walked down the path to my driveway and out to the street.
It was such a gorgeous view. I live on a quiet crescent in a relatively quiet neighbourhood, and, as it was 2am, everything was silent. Except, that is, for the sound of the snow falling - and the highway off in the distance, but I tuned that out completely. Falling snow has such a distinct sound; I noticed it the moment I stepped outside the first time. The first time it was the snow falling on an already snow-covered ground - now it was coupled with the harsher sound of it falling onto the polyester fabric of my jacket.
I walked halfway down my street on the sidewalk, paused, and then turned and went back towards my house on the road itself. Nicotine dizzies were kicking in at this point, so my steps were slowed and less sure than usual, which just added to the dream-like quality possessed by the world around me.
I almost passed my house on the way back but stopped and, feeling suddenly feverish and dizzy, sat down where my driveway meets the sidewalk, beside the small curb that separates my front yard from the asphalt.
I don't know how long I sat there for. My cigarette had long since extinguished, but I was so enthralled by the perfect tranquility and beauty of the world as it was at that moment that I didn't want to leave. So I watched the snow fall, periodically zoning out and then snapping back to reality, feeling entirely calm and at peace and so "in the moment" that I didn't want the feeling to ever go away.
I watched individual snowflakes as they fell in curves to the ground. I watched the shadows of them as they fell, shadows that raced along the ground towards the streetlight beside my driveway that drew them in. I looked up and down my street, noticing the perfect stillness of everything - there wasn't the slightest breeze in the air. The only thing that moved was the snow; the rest of the world was frozen, in more ways than one.
I watched as the flakes became fatter and fatter, and as my previously-made foot prints slowly became shallower right before my eyes. I stuck out my tongue and waited several long moments before a satisfyingly fat flake fell right in the middle of it; I caught a lot more with my open hand.
There was a point when the pattering of the snow hitting the snow already on the ground slowed down considerably, yet it seems that as soon as I noticed it it resumed it's previous speed.
I wondered if anybody else was standing outside and watching the snow fall like I was, letting it clear their mind, stop their racing thoughts, and calm their nervous system. I figure somebody must've been doing the same, somewhere - in a world of 6 billion people, you're never the only person doing a certain thing or feeling a certain way.
Eventually I heard the soft crunching of snow underneath tires, and looked down my street in alarm to see a minivan about to pull out of the driveway. I stood, out of a stupid self-conscious fear of looking ridiculous, and went back up to my porch, where I stood until I caught one final giant flake on my tongue. After I went inside, I saw the minivan drive past my house, leaving behind tracks that would last longer than my own footprints, but that simultaneously were disturbing and even destroying the beauty that Mother Nature was trying so hard to create.
I think this is the first winter that I have not hated. I've finally - after 18 winters spent in cold locations, be it Russia or Canada - become accustomed to the cold, and have even felt myself beginning to enjoy it. That's not to say that I didn't love today's +5 degree weather, but at least I've ceased my complaining of every time it dips below -10. Now I just do it to make conversation.
The bottom of my jeans is soaked and still numb, but I feel oddly satisfied. Cleansed, almost. Minus the almost.
I guess it really is the little things. Maybe because the little things make us forget about the big things, if only for a little while - but I hate to put a dampen on my mood by being "realistic", so just scratch that.
I'm hoping for a snow day tomorrow. I need to catch up on some reading (Alice Munro's Who Do You Think You Are is excellent and I really wish I had started it earlier so that I could, you know, finish it in time for class), and (another) day off would be awesome. Also since it's now 3:30am and I am nowhere near sleep.
P.S. halleluh, Mediafire - or probably my connection - was excruciatingly slow today and, after two hours of uploading the Kevin Devine.rar I made for you, it informed me that my file size was too large. Why it didn't tell me this before I don't know, but I'll split it into two sections tomorrow and upload it then. Just so that you know I'm not ignoring you.
Storm is a bad word for it - something so beautiful shouldn't have such negative connotations.
I went downstairs and, after checking the temperature outside by my kitchen's thermometer - a perfect 0 degrees - put on my winter coat and stepped outside. I lingered for a few moments before feeling silly and heading back inside, with the intention of getting a cigarette so I'd have something to do while standing on my porch and watching the snow fall. I wanted to grab my camera as well so I could maybe capture a few shots, but couldn't find it, remembering later that my mom wanted to get some pictures developed and must've taken it.
I went back out and watched the snow fall. I planned on only staying a few minutes, but after a few minutes had passed, felt compelled to stay longer, so I walked down the path to my driveway and out to the street.
It was such a gorgeous view. I live on a quiet crescent in a relatively quiet neighbourhood, and, as it was 2am, everything was silent. Except, that is, for the sound of the snow falling - and the highway off in the distance, but I tuned that out completely. Falling snow has such a distinct sound; I noticed it the moment I stepped outside the first time. The first time it was the snow falling on an already snow-covered ground - now it was coupled with the harsher sound of it falling onto the polyester fabric of my jacket.
I walked halfway down my street on the sidewalk, paused, and then turned and went back towards my house on the road itself. Nicotine dizzies were kicking in at this point, so my steps were slowed and less sure than usual, which just added to the dream-like quality possessed by the world around me.
I almost passed my house on the way back but stopped and, feeling suddenly feverish and dizzy, sat down where my driveway meets the sidewalk, beside the small curb that separates my front yard from the asphalt.
I don't know how long I sat there for. My cigarette had long since extinguished, but I was so enthralled by the perfect tranquility and beauty of the world as it was at that moment that I didn't want to leave. So I watched the snow fall, periodically zoning out and then snapping back to reality, feeling entirely calm and at peace and so "in the moment" that I didn't want the feeling to ever go away.
I watched individual snowflakes as they fell in curves to the ground. I watched the shadows of them as they fell, shadows that raced along the ground towards the streetlight beside my driveway that drew them in. I looked up and down my street, noticing the perfect stillness of everything - there wasn't the slightest breeze in the air. The only thing that moved was the snow; the rest of the world was frozen, in more ways than one.
I watched as the flakes became fatter and fatter, and as my previously-made foot prints slowly became shallower right before my eyes. I stuck out my tongue and waited several long moments before a satisfyingly fat flake fell right in the middle of it; I caught a lot more with my open hand.
There was a point when the pattering of the snow hitting the snow already on the ground slowed down considerably, yet it seems that as soon as I noticed it it resumed it's previous speed.
I wondered if anybody else was standing outside and watching the snow fall like I was, letting it clear their mind, stop their racing thoughts, and calm their nervous system. I figure somebody must've been doing the same, somewhere - in a world of 6 billion people, you're never the only person doing a certain thing or feeling a certain way.
Eventually I heard the soft crunching of snow underneath tires, and looked down my street in alarm to see a minivan about to pull out of the driveway. I stood, out of a stupid self-conscious fear of looking ridiculous, and went back up to my porch, where I stood until I caught one final giant flake on my tongue. After I went inside, I saw the minivan drive past my house, leaving behind tracks that would last longer than my own footprints, but that simultaneously were disturbing and even destroying the beauty that Mother Nature was trying so hard to create.
I think this is the first winter that I have not hated. I've finally - after 18 winters spent in cold locations, be it Russia or Canada - become accustomed to the cold, and have even felt myself beginning to enjoy it. That's not to say that I didn't love today's +5 degree weather, but at least I've ceased my complaining of every time it dips below -10. Now I just do it to make conversation.
The bottom of my jeans is soaked and still numb, but I feel oddly satisfied. Cleansed, almost. Minus the almost.
I guess it really is the little things. Maybe because the little things make us forget about the big things, if only for a little while - but I hate to put a dampen on my mood by being "realistic", so just scratch that.
I'm hoping for a snow day tomorrow. I need to catch up on some reading (Alice Munro's Who Do You Think You Are is excellent and I really wish I had started it earlier so that I could, you know, finish it in time for class), and (another) day off would be awesome. Also since it's now 3:30am and I am nowhere near sleep.
P.S. halleluh, Mediafire - or probably my connection - was excruciatingly slow today and, after two hours of uploading the Kevin Devine.rar I made for you, it informed me that my file size was too large. Why it didn't tell me this before I don't know, but I'll split it into two sections tomorrow and upload it then. Just so that you know I'm not ignoring you.