It Comes in Silence

I like the silence of snow. It falls with grace and arrives in dignity. It’s in no hurry to leave, either. Unlike its cousin the rain, which splatters and clatters and is always rushing off to get somewhere else, snow sits around, enjoys the view, and waits for the sun. I could see where it could be a tedious visitor, however, if the sun were otherwise engaged for too long, but in Texas the sun is never far from the scene. So, when snow comes it waits to be admired, sits for photo shoots, and is unperturbed when people tromp around in it like children. Then, knowing that fish and visitors begin to smell after three days, snow departs. Melts into the ground. Disappears.

Of course, it’s one of those things best admired through the windows of a warm house while standing by the hearth with a fire blazing. Or, if you have to go out it, be properly attired, with layers of soft clothing, silk and wool or down. We don’t teach those things anymore, or much talk about them, unless you hunt or get involved in some sort of winter recreation, but even then, synthetics rule the roost because they’re cheaper to make and most likely more effective. Its another conversation entirely, as to how we make those synthetics.

Suffice it to say that the cold and snow has come to central Texas in a big way, hurt a lot of people, given some a bit of pleasure, and is scheduled to depart later today. Its bags are packed and it’s ready to go. I can feel it. Most of us will be glad to see it leave. We’ve been in its frosty embrace for more time than we really enjoy if we ever enjoyed it at all. Brief encounters are my preference. Which is why, I think it’s time for mother nature to melt her cold, cold heart, and return us to her warm embrace.