And it snowed and it snowed and it snowed. For twenty-four unrelenting hours it snowed. Were it just a bit colder outside, there would be eight to ten inches of standing snow outside– but dreams of eight to ten inches have been melted away to patches here and there by the pertinacity of 40 degree weather.
But perhaps I’m wrong to see the snow from above and the ground below in confrontation. Perhaps I’m missing the grander scheme– the picture in which the sky and the ground are complementary forces. Could it not be that the ground, bringing up new life, had exhausted itself of moisture, and it put in a plea to the skies to replenish it? Could it not be that the skies, in response, came and bountifully bestowed their moisture to sate the parching ground and allow for new life? Why shouldn’t this be by design– why shouldn’t it have a purpose beyond the endless cycle of frozen ground, mud and parched earth?
Maybe I’m just reaching too far– trying too much to project my mental state on the enviroment around me.
