I love snow… I really do. I like the cold, I like the white fluffy stuff falling from the sky, I like skiing. In general, I’m a fan of winter. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fucking sick to death of this winter that seems to never end, but in general, well, you get the point.
Shanna and I took Jordan skiing last weekend. We had a blast. Jordan is a very good little skiier, I was happily surprised. She’s terrified of hills bigger than the bunny hill, but she can ski them. It was good to get a little powder under my skiis for the first time in far too long. There’s nothing more freeing than standing on top of a “mountain” and throwing yourself off of it. I was happy that I still had my “ski legs,” even if my knees were killing me by the end of the night.
When I was younger, and standing in that same place on top of a mountain, looking down at sheer ice and tree lines, I used to have a little mantra I said to myself. It went something like this: “1,2,3, I’m going to fucking die.” It was an odd mantra, but it worked for me, and what the hell, I was an odd kid. I didn’t have cause to use that mantra last weekend, perhaps I’m growing up, but the hills just didn’t scare me like they used to. But I understand exactly where Jordan is now, and I’m just happy she is sticking with it.
Back to other things: snowfall amber, for one. My favorite kind of snowfall is when it starts snowing just after sunset, and the huge white fluffy flakes fall from the sky as though they each have a mission, they are moving, as my brother in law would put it, with a sense of purpose. On nights like that, when the clouds are low over the horizon and the snow is falling faster than you could ever hope to shovel it off your driveway, it never gets really dark. The world is lit in perpetual amber light, as the rays of the streetlamps and florescent bulbed logos bounce between the snow on the ground and the flakes falling through the air and the silver clouds in the sky. This type of snowfall is almost always met uniformly with a lack of cars (most motorists being smart enough to stay home) and for a moment it is as if time stops, and the world sits frozen in amber, like ancient dinosaur DNA. I love that moment, that second, that minute, that hour, however long it lasts, the cold pulling the breath from my lungs in steaming gasps. The world is clean and perfect and newborn in that moment, and everything seems possible. That’s what this post is really about. It’s about rebirth and beginnings. A lot of people think that spring is the time of rebirth, but for me it’s always winter that brings about a new start to things. Winter is for newborns, spring is for toddlers. Anyway, more on this when I have more time to wax poetic, until then, I’m busy doing other things.