Picture from hereRight now I'm sitting on my couch while my brother is playing Mozart on the cello, looking outside at the snow lilting downwards. It snowed (and stuck) for the first time on Sunday night, I think (maybe Monday?). I love the first snowfall - and every one after that, really. One of the perks of living in New England (aside from our perfect autumns) is the snow every winter - snow for Christmas, snow that makes people cross-country-ski down the Esplanade, snow that shuts down the city for hours. But one of the best things about snow is the light. In winter, at twilight, we get this crazy electrical blue sky, a blue that holds light, and for about seven minutes the snow reflects that light back so that the world seems a little less grey and a little more saturated. There's a jazz group called Oregon that made a record called "Winter Light," and that gloaming sky is always what I think of when I listen to their music. That blue light reflecting off the snow.
On the other hand, we have snow here until March. While it is lovely through most of February, snow in March isn't that great. And snow (and slippery ice) marks the end of my running outside for the year. Oh, well. The crabbiness that comes from a lack of exercise is a small price to pay for those seven minutes at four or four-thirty every day. It's hard to be irritable when the light turns lovely colours, no? Also - snow days and snow angels and days spent inside next to the fire - who can argue with that?