First Snow

Since the last straggling and unusual snowfall that occurred last April, I have been awaiting this day. The day on which nature's muted beauty descends upon the city and silences the lingering rage of summer. I love the snow. I am lucky enough to have a window to look from here at my job. And I'm watching the snowflakes thicken into drifting clumps, covering the hard edges of the concrete and metal surfaces within my view.

Outside, the sidewalks and streets are still clear. This isn't yet one of those magical moments when the snow falls so heavy and fast that the snowplows can't keep up and all the man-made pathways are coated with a uniform layer of frozen white. Those are the times when pedestrian, motorist and cyclist are all the same. When people emerge from their burrows after the storm and they all share the street. We gather on the broadway and walk and ski and sled and throw snowballs.

I'll never forget the story I read once about a rare snowfall in Israel. The Israeli soldiers and the Palestinian children, who normally exchanged volleys of rocks and gunfire, instead laughed and threw snowballs. Snow is the great equalizer.

Sorry, I'm a cheesy romantic. Hopelessly optimistic.