Watching thin ice floes meander downstream with their fluffy cargo is to see God s beauty in motion. But reality forever intrudes on my dreams, and it s only in the still of the morning that snowfall looks and feels as idyllic as my mind imagines. As I headed home, I knew that the quiet grandeur I just witnessed was as fleeting as a sunset. Humans had already begun to vandalize nature s perfect white painting. It s a shame because being able to witness a few moments of peace in the snow makes dealing with the inconveniences it imposes on our lives more bearable.
Movies help out by depicting snowfall in places like New York City as something romantic and sweet.
In reality, by the time snow-flakes reach eye level in the Big Apple, they are already polluted, and upon impact with the ground they begin to take on the color and consistency of spoiled fruit. That s not unlike snowfall in any urban environment. For most of the winter, Northerners trudge through ugly slush that never seems to go away. And every curb has its own uniquely shaped puddle, the brown ice floating on top like quicksand daring you to pick out a spot that won t plunge you shin deep into the half-frozen muck. Get out of the city, however, and the snow starts to regain its beauty and tranquillity.