wander project Greenwood (snow)

Snow, the particles, no not particles, the frozen water falling from the sky. Enough falling then, to cover the ground. I have run to warm pictures for the past few days, but now all is lost. This morning awakening to 2 degrees. Temperatures that can be measured on one d are uncomfortable. Today I am embracing snow (well I am not going outside and hugging the snow currently in the yard, rather I am embracing and accepting the concept of snow.).

This snow is from 2004 in Greenwood Indiana. There was a time when I traveled all over the world, that snow was a huge obstacle. In part because I had to shovel the driveway before I could get the car out of the garage. Then I had to drive to the airport. Many days I was the only person on the road, arriving on time, only to find my flight delayed two, three or four hours. One bad weather day, we spent 5 hours on the plane on the Tarmac. It was due to thunderstorms, but you get the idea.

(That hammock in the front of this picture still hangs off the back deck of our house, just in Maryland now).

Snow is the enemy of productivity. It calls to you, its siren song of let’s play. Let’s sled, let’s be eight years old again. The problem is the last time I went sledding my back hurt for a month afterward.

I wonder if snow is the universe’s answer to the question what can go wrong will. Snow being the what did go wrong, the worst case scenario. Yes, it lies in beauty on the ground. Covering the scars of the world that were there before. But it is not a peaceful beauty. It is a loud beauty that ever changes all around.


back to cool

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s