If you have been reading this blog since it's birth, a year ago this past November, I'm hoping this post will seem like dejavu. Last years first snowfall was discovered on the morning of Dec. 6th, except I woke up in my own home this time. We all woke up in our own places of residence. There is someone who I wish could have shared this morning with, but that's the future.
If there is any proof of the changing times it's the difference between the posts of lasts years first snow to this years. Finally after a year has passed there is meaning to all of these post's, or at least a connection to be made. Every one's lives have gone through a change, in my case, for the better. Not to say I regret the morning of baby winter a year ago, but the hangover was like sitting in Barker's bass drum during this summer's solo; pounding and spinning, pounding and spinning.
The beauty of this first snow connection is that it wasn't planned. The coming of the snow and the powder-coated trees this morning made me want to write. Only after sitting down I realized it was the same thing a year ago...just a writer with an entirely different mindset...and a completely changed outlook. The real secret is this; taking a late night walk as the snow falls, before the rest really have a chance to wake up and take it in. It's almost as if the first snow is a gift acquired all for yourself. It is a gift of silence and exceptional aesthetic appeal but most of all a state of mind.
Some of the best conversations I have ever had with another person have been during walks in snowfall. Something in the snow brings out the truth in people. I will never forget a talk I had with my father at 16 years old walking in the snow; that's between him and I. My walk in the snow last night proved no different. Around midnight I put on the boots and Carhartt with more enthusiasm for a walk with the dog than I have had in months. Conversation was limited untill modern day technology was used as an outlet. My conversation fit perfectly with the first snows mood, even though I was walking through it and she was in bed. This is beside the point though. There is a rhyme and reason to most things in life, that is a belief of mine, but, if you fumble a line or don't think things out, that rhyme could fall flat and your reason could be clouded.
Cheers to this years first snow:
