There’s something so quiet about snowfall. Yes, snow can wreak havoc as it piles and blows, but when it gently falls, it seems to hush the world.
I watched it fall outside my window. It glistened under the streetlights. It crunched under my feet the next morning. It revealed the activities of birds and rabbits in my yard with trail impressions I wouldn’t see if not for the snow.
Snow seems to insulate and highlight. And it stills.
I know many people find snow annoying. I also know people who find stillness annoying. But both are amazing. After all, no two snowflakes are the same. Do you know how many snowflakes comprise even the slightest snow accumulations? Neither do I, but I know it’s a lot. And stillness might seem at first to be empty, but it invites a fullness that comforts and clarifies. Like snow, it insulates and highlights.
Whether or not you live somewhere to experience snow, you can experience stillness. You can see beauty and amazement in it. But you will have to watch it, let it accumulate, and stand within it. It is not instant; it is a pursuit worth every second and every step.