Thursday, November 02, 2006
Reflections on the Snow
I woke up this morning to a whirlwind of snowflakes outside my window. I knew the forecast was calling for it, but there's still something baffling about snow at the beginning of November, especially when you grew up in a place where at the slightest mention of possible snow, the entire world came to a halt to prepare for this once-in-a-lifetime event. So I donned my best snow-protection gear and waddled out of my flat, bearing striking resemblance to the boy from the Christmas Story.
I must have looked quite commical to the locals, who hardly batted an eyelash at the sudden invasion of the snowflake army. To them, this is no reason to run to the nearest Delvita and buy up all the bread and milk before sunset. I mean, if the flakes were actually sticking, then maybe I'd be justified.
The snowflakes here don't exactly "fall." They swirl and dance around you in the notorious Ostrava winter wind. I'm not sure if any of them actually touch the ground. It's quite lovely actually, although I do get an uneasy feeling knowing that it's only the beginning of a long, cold winter. As I'm watching the swirling dance routine outside my window right now, it seems as if they are just messing with me. They float by to remind me that they exist, and that if they wanted to, they could simultaneously drop all at once in a heap of snow dust that would blanket me and everything else within a 1000 mile radius. And then they disappear for a while, and the sun comes back out. But give them another twenty minutes, and without fail, there goes another one by my window, as if checking in to see if I'm preparing for the nuclear winter that is Central Europe.
I've always enjoyed the beauty of God's creations in nature. I have been nervous about surviving the winter, but I'm reminded of all the blessings I have here that make it all worth it. The possiblity of having a white Christmas for the first time in my life, to ride a train through a countryside of snowy evergreens (just like the ones in our miniature Christmas Village!), and to go sledding for more than one day out of the year are all joyful thoughts! And so, I shalt put on the mittens of faith, the earmuffs of hope, the scarf of courage, and the long-underwear of perseverance. And this I say to you, little snowflake: Bring it on!
I must have looked quite commical to the locals, who hardly batted an eyelash at the sudden invasion of the snowflake army. To them, this is no reason to run to the nearest Delvita and buy up all the bread and milk before sunset. I mean, if the flakes were actually sticking, then maybe I'd be justified.
The snowflakes here don't exactly "fall." They swirl and dance around you in the notorious Ostrava winter wind. I'm not sure if any of them actually touch the ground. It's quite lovely actually, although I do get an uneasy feeling knowing that it's only the beginning of a long, cold winter. As I'm watching the swirling dance routine outside my window right now, it seems as if they are just messing with me. They float by to remind me that they exist, and that if they wanted to, they could simultaneously drop all at once in a heap of snow dust that would blanket me and everything else within a 1000 mile radius. And then they disappear for a while, and the sun comes back out. But give them another twenty minutes, and without fail, there goes another one by my window, as if checking in to see if I'm preparing for the nuclear winter that is Central Europe.
I've always enjoyed the beauty of God's creations in nature. I have been nervous about surviving the winter, but I'm reminded of all the blessings I have here that make it all worth it. The possiblity of having a white Christmas for the first time in my life, to ride a train through a countryside of snowy evergreens (just like the ones in our miniature Christmas Village!), and to go sledding for more than one day out of the year are all joyful thoughts! And so, I shalt put on the mittens of faith, the earmuffs of hope, the scarf of courage, and the long-underwear of perseverance. And this I say to you, little snowflake: Bring it on!
# posted by Jessica @ 5:02 AM 
