"Change, when it comes, cracks everything open."
Dorothy Allen

Monday, December 6, 2010


I love snow.  I do get sick of it after a while, and spring is my favorite season.  But this time of year, and this kind of snow- I love it.  I love the way it crunches under my feet.  I like it licking off my eyelashes.  I like seeing it floating in my hair. 

Snow reminds me of a million things.  I always think of my one friend Rachel.  Every year, on the first snowfall, she is one of the very first things that comes to my mind.  She loves snow, as much as I do, and it means as much. She believes in magic Christmas snow, and that makes her special.

Speaking of magic Christmas snow, Sebastian is blessed.  The first seven years of his life, he brought the goods, we always had snow on Christmas.  Sometimes it didn't stick for very long, but it fell, and it was always beautiful.  I remember bundling him up for his first Christmas, he was only about 6 weeks old, and standing on the porch of our old house, watching huge fluffy flakes falling out of the sky.  I remember him being about 5, in the home we are in now, coming out with me to shovel the drive way, and throwing more snow on me, than he cleared.  He laughed and puffed out steam, and he was the perfect little boy.

I remember walking my old dog, Pixon.  I did alot wrong with that dog, and I was a horrible owner.  I regret that so much, it breaks my heart, and it spurs me to be better with Axle.  My only excuse was that I was a stupid kid, and didn't know any better.  But, when I was being a good owner, we would walk at night, in the snow.  At the time, the church down the street from my parents house still owned the big lot, so it was empty, just a big expanse of undisturbed white.  Pixon never walked well on a leash, but I would take her out with a huge long rope, and let her run.  She would run and run, and when she finally got tired, she would come back, and we would sit together and look up at the stars.  She would be calm for a while and I would rub my face in the thick fur on her neck.  They were nice times, happy times.  She was a great dog.

Snow.  The smell of it in the air reminds me of Lindsay and college.  The smell of spring does too.  But I can remember walking home from the bar, half lit.  We would be laughing and joking and pushing each other, Carrie and I and whoever else we had tagging along, and after a while, we would be quiet.  And in that quiet, you could hear distant traffic.  You could hear the last of the leaves in the trees rustling and whispering.  And in the air- that sharp but somehow soft scent.  It would get caught in your nose and your throat, and tighten them up for a minute.  It made you quiet.  It made you pay attention.  You knew snow was coming.  It made me glad.  And once it was there, it was part of everything we did.  My schoolwork was outside alot, tramping along deer trails, tracking hares, and fox and everything else through the snow.  Minus 50 with the wind chill was not uncommon.  It was a cold that would freeze the hairs inside your nose the instant you took a breath.  It was brutal and unforgiving.  But it toughened you up.  It made me proud, to live through it, to thrive in it. 

Good memories.

It snowed today. 

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "neige".

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