The one inch drift
Feb. 28th, 2003 11:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
squirmeliaIt was the time of year when winter was still creeping around and I could feel the chill even at my ankles, where it then wafted downwards through my shoes and encircled my feet with a criticising frostiness. Every breath I took appeared as a white cloud, and I tried not to breathe too much. I'd sit in my house, wrapped in duvet and eat marshmallows that I'd heat in the microwave.
It seemed so cold, that I knew the icicles would spore outside the windows. I looked forward to the possibility of snow, and this made it possible for me to endure winter, no matter how chilly it got. It hadn’t snowed for so long in this town where I resided. I could remember snow from my childhood, but I couldn’t actually remember it snowing here. I was sure there must have been plenty of snow, and I was just tangling up my memories of faraway snow-capped towns. I could remember gliding down large snow covered hills on the back of a sledge. I could remember when it snowed so much that my dog simply disappeared for a while, vanished beneath the snowdrift. I could remember densely packed snow, walking slowly along the top of it, as if it were a mountain, and then noticing an aerial sticking out from the ground, and realising that I was walking over a buried car.
I happened to catch a weather report on the television. There's something I like about seeing the weather - the format never changes, there's only a certain amount of different varieties of weather that happen. New types of weather have been discovered- from Luke Howard’s research, clouds were given different names - cirrus, cumulus, etc, but they were still clouds. There might be different types of rays of sun too, but it still gets hot. You can watch videos of the weather from years ago and it seems to have the same relevance that watching the weather today does. At times, it almost seems like reading an out-of-date horoscope, thinking it's true, and then realising it's for a completely different time, yet somehow doesn't matter at all. The weather is sometimes like that, especially if you don't go outside.
The weather report actually said it was going to snow. Snow! I couldn't believe it. I felt like I was witnessing something amazing when I heard it and saw the cute little symbols to confirm it. It was almost like being there at the moment when a baby first sticks its head out into the world - a relatively rare occasion unless you're a midwife. I thought of the weatherman as being able to see all the new-born weather, before anyone else, but then I realised that even he might not get to see it first. It's probably the meteorologists or whoever sends the weather to the television stations. At that point I really wanted to be a meteorologist, instead of having my current job of working with bees. I do like working with them, but the buzzing of weather seems far more special, and affects more people.
I was dying with excitement, anticipating the upcoming flurry with such desire that I thought I wouldn't be able to take it anymore. Snow had taken on a whole different meaning than just frozen water. It was only a week before the snow finally landed, just as I had started to give up hope. As I sat at the window, just waiting, eager to notice any fluctuations in the weather, I saw the first flakes. They were so pretty that I was overcome with emotion, and tears ran down my face as I leapt outside to join the discarded pieces of the sky. The snow was wet, and brushed against my face like the lips of a melting lover.
After a while I became a bit disappointed when I saw the snow wasn't settling. I wanted to be able to immerse myself in it even when the downpour had ended, which I presumed would be quite abruptly. I wanted to be able to see the world slightly hidden with a fresh layer, transformed into the type of landscape I always dreamt about. I thought snow was the only thing that could change the world.
I went to bed that night still in a state of happy exhilaration, wondering if the snow showers would get heavier overnight, and smother the world. I could not wait until morning when I would possibly be able to see this. Unsurprisingly, I could remember some of my dreams being filled up with beautiful blizzards, even when everything before was just ordinary, and the snow seemed out of place.
When I woke and ran to the window, I found that there was a shiny ocean of crushed pearls surrounding everything. It was only a very thin layer - about an inch, but it was there, just like I had wanted. Snow!
For some reason, possibly my lack of gloves, I was unwilling to plunge my fingers into the snow. I was a little bit scared that I would disrupt it, interfere with its delicacy.
It didn't snow again until a few days later - just as the snow had got slushy from where people had walked on it, and just as people had begun to shovel the remainders away. I hoped that it would settle more - provide a thicker, more substantial layer, but it didn't, not at all. Again all there was was another thin layer of icing, again just an inch thick.
After a week, most people had tired of it, but even the smallest glimpse of it would still make me smile. The people just wanted it to go, and kept trying to clear it, but every time they did, it would just snow again, leaving the same inch everywhere.
It got to spring and this sequence was still happening, all the people of the town had grown despondent and weary, nauseous at the thought of the colour white, and would avoid putting ice-cubes in their drinks, preferring them slightly tepid.
It seemed so cold, that I knew the icicles would spore outside the windows. I looked forward to the possibility of snow, and this made it possible for me to endure winter, no matter how chilly it got. It hadn’t snowed for so long in this town where I resided. I could remember snow from my childhood, but I couldn’t actually remember it snowing here. I was sure there must have been plenty of snow, and I was just tangling up my memories of faraway snow-capped towns. I could remember gliding down large snow covered hills on the back of a sledge. I could remember when it snowed so much that my dog simply disappeared for a while, vanished beneath the snowdrift. I could remember densely packed snow, walking slowly along the top of it, as if it were a mountain, and then noticing an aerial sticking out from the ground, and realising that I was walking over a buried car.
I happened to catch a weather report on the television. There's something I like about seeing the weather - the format never changes, there's only a certain amount of different varieties of weather that happen. New types of weather have been discovered- from Luke Howard’s research, clouds were given different names - cirrus, cumulus, etc, but they were still clouds. There might be different types of rays of sun too, but it still gets hot. You can watch videos of the weather from years ago and it seems to have the same relevance that watching the weather today does. At times, it almost seems like reading an out-of-date horoscope, thinking it's true, and then realising it's for a completely different time, yet somehow doesn't matter at all. The weather is sometimes like that, especially if you don't go outside.
The weather report actually said it was going to snow. Snow! I couldn't believe it. I felt like I was witnessing something amazing when I heard it and saw the cute little symbols to confirm it. It was almost like being there at the moment when a baby first sticks its head out into the world - a relatively rare occasion unless you're a midwife. I thought of the weatherman as being able to see all the new-born weather, before anyone else, but then I realised that even he might not get to see it first. It's probably the meteorologists or whoever sends the weather to the television stations. At that point I really wanted to be a meteorologist, instead of having my current job of working with bees. I do like working with them, but the buzzing of weather seems far more special, and affects more people.
I was dying with excitement, anticipating the upcoming flurry with such desire that I thought I wouldn't be able to take it anymore. Snow had taken on a whole different meaning than just frozen water. It was only a week before the snow finally landed, just as I had started to give up hope. As I sat at the window, just waiting, eager to notice any fluctuations in the weather, I saw the first flakes. They were so pretty that I was overcome with emotion, and tears ran down my face as I leapt outside to join the discarded pieces of the sky. The snow was wet, and brushed against my face like the lips of a melting lover.
After a while I became a bit disappointed when I saw the snow wasn't settling. I wanted to be able to immerse myself in it even when the downpour had ended, which I presumed would be quite abruptly. I wanted to be able to see the world slightly hidden with a fresh layer, transformed into the type of landscape I always dreamt about. I thought snow was the only thing that could change the world.
I went to bed that night still in a state of happy exhilaration, wondering if the snow showers would get heavier overnight, and smother the world. I could not wait until morning when I would possibly be able to see this. Unsurprisingly, I could remember some of my dreams being filled up with beautiful blizzards, even when everything before was just ordinary, and the snow seemed out of place.
When I woke and ran to the window, I found that there was a shiny ocean of crushed pearls surrounding everything. It was only a very thin layer - about an inch, but it was there, just like I had wanted. Snow!
For some reason, possibly my lack of gloves, I was unwilling to plunge my fingers into the snow. I was a little bit scared that I would disrupt it, interfere with its delicacy.
It didn't snow again until a few days later - just as the snow had got slushy from where people had walked on it, and just as people had begun to shovel the remainders away. I hoped that it would settle more - provide a thicker, more substantial layer, but it didn't, not at all. Again all there was was another thin layer of icing, again just an inch thick.
After a week, most people had tired of it, but even the smallest glimpse of it would still make me smile. The people just wanted it to go, and kept trying to clear it, but every time they did, it would just snow again, leaving the same inch everywhere.
It got to spring and this sequence was still happening, all the people of the town had grown despondent and weary, nauseous at the thought of the colour white, and would avoid putting ice-cubes in their drinks, preferring them slightly tepid.