Snow announced April’s arrival. As if a heavenly baker started sifting powdered sugar from above, I noticed the small, feathery snow flakes descending from outside our window.
I wondered if time slowed down because I could see each dot swaying, suspended in the air for a moment, and carried off by the wind somewhere. This is my first snow here, have I told you that? And I did not expect it to be like this.
The feathery rain is so quiet, almost a whisper that I cannot hear even when there was wind. I opened the window and stretched out my arm. The most minute snow flakes landed on my pullover, inspiring childlike wonder: So small. What height did it travel? At what point did the rain decided to be snow? Why can’t I catch any on my hand? What happens to the daffodils on the street? I sure hope they do not all rot.
I kept looking outside the window, in between reading, making hot chocolate, taking my bread out of the oven (yes, I did get burned a little), and washing the wooden spatula. The snow kept falling like a secret, some white ice slowly accumulating on the ground.
Immediately, there is something melancholic about it, a small tug that pulls inwards. It is fascinating, seeing snow right now; dreamy, so far from everything that I know from The Philippines. It is definitely an experience.
But I don’t like the gray skies and how it seems to mute the world. It makes me feel like I am inside a shaken snow globe, but fortunately, nearly not as dizzy.
Oh well, at least I made a point of enjoying the last month and all the sun and flowers it had to offer. I am glad I was able to be present to enjoy that and now I will keep observing this snow and be open to what it has to teach me – hopefully not for an entire month though.