Apocalypse sNow II

I have never seen the sky look quite like this -not even in Minnesota- and it may be part of the reason why I am wide awake at 1:30 am (that and the beerownies). The sky is so thick with snow that it is silver white, as light as dusk or early dawn. The view from nearly every side of the house is monochrome, except for the occasional glowing porch light. There is no beyond, behind the houses across the street there is a simple gray canvas across which are inky black streaks of oak trunks and branches.

All of the windows in the living room are open and the lights are off so I can take in this strange light, and the silence. No planes flying over head, no traffic in the distance, just the movement of heavy winter branches and the muffled clank of a neighbor’s windchime. The snowflakes are so small and moving so fast that from the window they are invisible, appearing only en masse as the gray canvas across the street.

As much as I crave a summer day, I am happy not to miss this storm. Even if we don’t have the predicted twenty to thirty-six inches of snow when it is over, I have the feeling that this is something unique, an opportunity to experience the world in a new and singularly dramatic way.