I don't know if there is anything I like more than sitting watching the rain from a porch or out an open window, but snow comes pretty close. Snow fall, aside from being beautiful is so different, in that there is no sound. Just a slow accumulation of whiteness, blanketing the black streets. There is just something so soothing about it.
I think there's something therapeutic about a snowfall. Almost as if this clean sheet lays down over the dirt that is our everyday life. The pureness covers the metaphoric evils that lay beneath. Sure, we know what is there and within hours the next day, that dirt and grime will seep through and turn that clean slate into something even worse than originally sat there. But for those moments, when the snow falls, especially at night, we see those individual flakes, working to form something beautiful. Like the covers we hide under at night, symbolically protecting us from all the monsters of the day, as we dream of worlds filled with fantasy and splendor. Only to awake to reality. Although sometimes we awaken to that beautiful snowfall. I know I smile.
I think there's something therapeutic about a snowfall. Almost as if this clean sheet lays down over the dirt that is our everyday life. The pureness covers the metaphoric evils that lay beneath. Sure, we know what is there and within hours the next day, that dirt and grime will seep through and turn that clean slate into something even worse than originally sat there. But for those moments, when the snow falls, especially at night, we see those individual flakes, working to form something beautiful. Like the covers we hide under at night, symbolically protecting us from all the monsters of the day, as we dream of worlds filled with fantasy and splendor. Only to awake to reality. Although sometimes we awaken to that beautiful snowfall. I know I smile.
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