Still, Still, Still

I love watching the snow fall. Especially when I'm curled up in a blanket in my nice, warm apartment and the snow is falling on the other side of the window. I love watching the big flakes cascading down like little icy specks of confetti. I love how the fresh-fallen powder blankets the earth, turning it into a giant canvas lying in wait for the next wandering animal to paint a new picture on its pristine surface. I love how quiet things are when the snow is falling, like someone threw a comforter over the World that muffles out the bustle of day-to-day.
It makes me happy to see everything so fresh and new: Infinite possibilities exist for a new landscape laid out for us overnight while we slept. Anything can happen to the new-fallen snow. The wind can sweep by and change its shape and contour. An animal can trudge along and change its color, as well as create patterns, adding detail to what was once without marking. There's a lot of hope in snow because you know that underneath it all the grass is still green, waiting patiently for the sun to come out from behind the clouds and melt away the shell, and you know that, come spring, the World will burst into life again, despite the long winter.