The First Fall

Living in Pennsylvania, I am lucky enough to experience all four seasons.  My favorite season is spring because I love to see all of nature waking up and getting ready to grow.  I also love that the weather is typically a light jacket and pants, and when it’s really warm I can break out all of my fun dresses.  I always dread when the chill comes, that bitter cold that comes with winter.  I can appreciate the snow, everyone’s favorite returning friend.

Most people like snow for a variety of reasons.  There’s the hope that school might be cancelled or delayed, which gives you those few extra hours of warm slumber.  There’s the hope that you can use the snow as an excuse to being late for class or work, or perhaps you can just not show up at all.  After all, being on the roads when it’s snowing is dangerous.  There’s playing in the snow, which includes chasing your friends around with snowballs, or maybe watching your dog hop across the white blanket that had yet to be touched.

My love for snow comes from the essence of it.  When it falls on the ground, it starts packing up on roads,  backyards and sidewalks.  I love the crunch of freshly fallen snow under my shoes as I walk over its path.  The sound of snow is so serene.  You would think that a piece of nature like snow wouldn’t have a sound, but give it a listen.  It’s almost like you can’t hear anything, and that is its sound.  There is so much going on around you like cars, people, and busy roads, but when the snow is falling you can block out all of that.  It muffles all the unwanted emptiness and fills it with soft silence.

When the snow first falls, you can see it rising on tree branches and roof tops.  It’s so perfectly white.  You almost want to run your hand along each ledge, each branch, just to see the mounds drift to the ground.  But you don’t mess up the mounds, you instead draw your gloved finger through it, writing out your name.  Or maybe you are glove-less, and instead you dare to drag your finger through the chilly snow.  Afterwards, you shake off the wetness, and blow warm air into your hands, attempting to warm every frozen finger.  It doesn’t matter how cold you are, it was worth it to see your name appear on the snow, only to be covered up by fresh flakes.

Billowy mounds of snow

The snow falls onto everything you are wearing too.  Not just your jacket, where the snow clings to every thread, but to your face.  It falls softly onto your nose, and soon your eyelashes.  Every time you blink little flakes move with you.  They soon melt, only to welcome more onto the little hairs shielding your eyes.  The snow covers all of your hair, lightly resting on it until you decide to shake it out or tousle your locks which only soaks the flakes to the hair even more.

The sad part is when the snow turns to slush, and the roads are a sloppy mess.  The roadsides are piled high with mounds of muddy brown snow.  Everything becomes a little more dirty and less magical.  But, we always can remember that first day when the snow first fell, and everything was a white wonderland.  I think I should stop complaining how the weather is cold when it is snowing, and instead appreciate everything that is wonderful when it falls.

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