There's something about snow...

Today I have delighted in the rare flutter and sway of the imperfectly formed, yet most beautiful feather-like snow flakes that have littered the sky, and thus my window frame. Do we therefore anticipate a break of all darkened grey things by this white, clean world, I wish she thinks...or do we say to this snowy blanket "too late you've missed the Christmas tinkle of Santa's sleigh bells".

White as snow, a cliche ridden barrage of terminology erupts, almost unwillingly, laugh, on one hand, it can mean an array of things as we all know. A signifier, yes of cleansing perhaps some unwanted 'black' spots in life's events. A tale like Tim Burton's Edward Scissor Hands and the snow fall at the end of the movie which marks change, potentially, we think for 'good', and yet those of us that know and love the film well witness a far from happier ending. Black spot covered, short-term, to resurface when the short-term 'white' fix has melted. Bah humbug Ed should have said, the trajectory of white as purer or better is dead. 

But of course there is good in this white signifier, yes, lets pay some lip-service to this rare and glorious substance. Snow is indeed aesthetically very pleasing to the eye, everything appears to be brighter, somehow more clarified in this crisp, breath-evident air. There are after all snowballs a plenty and children willing, yes willing to play 'outside' as opposed to 'inside' a screen, or three. Cherried, flushed cheeks emblazoned upon youth I have today witnessed, as opposed to sallow pale, faces that bear those all too familiar hollowed eyes that dart in defiance at the mere suggestion of 'why do'nt you play outside'. 

So, I have sampled fun, tears from stinging hard objects, and observed snow balls that clearly should have been carved into rounded men with rooty carrotian noses, not mutated into huge spherical harming objects. Shhh.. Back to soft, I have heard much laughter, peels of screams and seen littlest clean footprints in the snow. How refreshing, even quenching in a far too long spell of dry desert-driven grey days.