It is the middle of January and I am sitting crossed legged on my bed, playing guitar and watching the snow sift gently to the wet ground. It will not stick...not today, not enough cold and not enough snow. But the way the flakes lazily drift and dance is so beautiful, I don't mind the lack of snowball fights or canceled work. I am enjoying the beauty of something much bigger than my job or play. The beauty cast down in nature.
Of course, secretly, I want it to stick. To stay around for a day or two and let us enjoy ourselves merrily in it's white blanket. Children will dirty it with their excited and naive feet and those of us old enough will tread lightly, trying to preserve the few hours of purity and cleanliness left by the grey sky.
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