waiting to fall silent

What does it say about waiting – longing – for something, when certain criteria first have to be met? I’m talking about snow. I crave snowfall. That is, when convenient, and when there will be no disruptions to my plans.

Then there is the waiting for the snow. No disruptions expected, so where are the falling snowflakes?

Since moving to Georgia I’ve taken delight in seeing and experiencing snow. I grew up with snow and for almost 40 years I lived in non-snow climes. Now that I live in the mountains I welcome snowfall. Just as long as I am not inconvenienced.

You’d think having retired and moved to the mountains, I would relish being snowed in. Well, quite the opposite it turns out. If I have just a hint that I might not “get out” because I have to be somewhere, I completely miss the snow experience.

Yesterday I had to be somewhere an hour’s drive from home. I was reasonably certain I could get back home before the white stuff arrived. I got back by the predicted noon snow arrival, but then I was frustrated by having to wait an hour or so for the snow show. What is it about my timetable?

At last the big show began!

May Sarton talks about snow silence in her poem, December Moon. “…so calm, untouched and white, snow silence fills my head.” I know that hushed silence. It stops me; it quiets me. When time dictates that I have nowhere to be, that is.

Mary Oliver writes, “snow was falling so much like stars filing the dark trees, so that one could imagine its reason for being was nothing more than prettiness.”

Prettiness indeed.

Of course this kind of prettiness and silence is only for a time. While fleeting, my snow craving is satisfied, my soul is quieted. Hopefully I’m learning lessons about patience.