No Two Alike

Snow has always held some magical power over me. The muffling of sound, the purification of the landscape, the ceasing of mindless bustle combine to quell any and all misgivings. St. Louis is enough of a stranger to the stuff, with only sporadic storms, that life is different when the white stuff falls in quantity. Most of life fails the litmus test of importance against the crystalline accumulation. As though we realize we cannot fight Nature, we join her celebration armed with sleds and warming fires, abandoning modern conveyances in favor of boots or snow shoes. Flowing with Nature's choices feels strange but exhilarating.