How snow changes your whole outlook.
We turned off our cable.
About three months ago, I think, maybe longer. And before that, we only had it in the basement, which we never used, so in a way I’ve been super thankful not to have it, but we also missed baseball season.
We’ve become much smarter about what we tune in to. Everything is by choice – no commercials, no sensationalizing of current affairs, no reality TV – but selective shows. And I took the time to sit down and watch a movie last week called, “Love Happens.” Sounds completely chick flicky, yes? It was, but not as fluffy as a lot of them are. It wasn’t fantastic, but it did make a great point, and the point was about perspective. You can look at the same world from two different vantage points and feel completely different, even though all of the same chaos and stuff is happening just the same.
My point?
Snow. Snow is my point. Two little boys could not wait to explode out from their bunk beds and peek out of their bedroom window to see the new snow, the new possibilities.
An early snow for us this year (and it’s happening again, today). It came before Halloween, this very cold, too cold for good snowballs in fact, snow.
It’s like crack for kids.
And my husband.
The weight of it bore down on trees, especially those still holding onto their leaves. Some trees broke under the pressure, some just bowed gracefully to the ground, begging for a little help to shake it off.
And over the course of a few hours that were born in joy and elation for the playful possibilities, there was tree tragedy for some. Lots and lots of trucks lined up at the mulching plant to deposit broken branches and trees.
Perspective. It ran the gammut. Where did you fit in there? Our branch loss was minimal, and I can’t wait to see how our new tricked out trees will look come spring. Maybe there will be something different I haven’t noticed before, framed in a new way by branches reaching and stretching in ways they haven’t yet.
Our snowfall brought an Ewok Jawa. (Update: I was just scolded by Hank and shame was brought on our family because I didn’t know my creepy Star Wars gremlins. My bad.)
Just as I was about to search for weird red eyes, the light shifted and it was just Hank.
Not as exciting of a story. Ha.
The little guy was not disappointed.
He was still fascinated by all of the fluffy white stuff.
Happy snowperson-building day.
