I just really love the snow.

I can't wait for the snow.
The cold, the chill, the colour... even the ice, maybe.
The way the icicles hang from buildings, and the snow piles and mounds walkways as we travel on foot, and even other ways.
The way the chill quite literally nips your nose, and when you look up to admire the snow on that tree, the breeze hits it, and some falls on your face.
The flakes that dance and land extraneously, quite wherever they feel like.
The way so many footprints leave marks, and you can tell where someone was going...though not what they were thinking.  Or can you?  Sometimes, maybe you might have some idea.

The snow is like this wonderful magic, and at the same time, this wonderful reflector of life.
It has its good days, and its bad days.
It brings joy, smiles, fun, and laughter.
But it also brings frustration, nervousness, and pain.
It isn't perfect, the snow.
But it's special.  Unique.  Excellent in so many ways - so many of them specific to its own nature.
It can help many things, and bring beauty to much of nature.
However, in order to do that, it must also bring some darkness, too.
Some things that might be seen as unfortunate, or lesser - unwelcome, and even bad.

I wonder if the snow is misunderstood.
It seems almost like that kid in the playground who gets bullied, but maybe no-one knows why...or maybe no-one really cares.  Either way, that kid has it kinda rough.  Eventually, the kid might be tolerated once he hits secondary or post-secondary, but really, he's always that kid who's never quite understood, and has too much going on for him to be truly liked, or even loved.

Yet, that's something that's always bothered me...about the kid in the playground.  And about the snow.
They're different.  Unusual.  Unruly.  Unpredictable.
All of the things we are programmed to find annoying, and insufferable, and just can't quite grow to love.  For those who have that special gift, they might come to reach tolerance - or even acceptance - and much more quickly than others (some may never reach these stages), but even then... there's always something.  Always some kind of barrier.

It's interesting to think about how much the snow (and nature, as a whole) reflects life, our culture, and just so many things, really.  I could go on a nature spiel, but that's probably one best saved for another time.

Really though, I love the snow.  In its perfect imperfectness, through its cold, and ice, and even its "inconveniences"...I just love the snow.  The way it keeps you warm, but makes you cold - sometimes all at the same time.  The way it's perfect for playing, or sculpting, or photographing, or just simply admiring.  The way it moulds; the way it's present, moving, and still.  All at the same time.
The things I could list off about the snow are numerous, as I'm sure you've figured out by now...but in the end, I'm still not sure how to explain it.

I just really love the snow.