In Praise of Weather

In the last week or so winter has reared its head and descended on us again. Given that today is the first day of spring how could this be?

I love to talk about weather, especially when it's doing something interesting, and, most particularly of all, when it snows. In all the extremes of tempurature found in the universe it is glorious that snow falls beautifully--and, then, goes away. Enough to make balls of it, forts of it, men of it and ski on it before it melts into spring. All this and it gives us something we can talk about with anyone. 'Glad we're having weather, again,' as an old high school friend used to say.

Of course this past hurricane season shows that the weather can overwhelm us, take our lives and scatter us like bugs. It takes the wicked and the wise, and the young and the old with equanimity. In which case we are as weak as children before an angry parent.

In Tim Burton's lovely modern-day fable Edward Scissorhands, Edward, who is too dangerous to live in the world, must live alone in his castle on the hill. And with his razor-sharp hands he makes his sculptures of ice and, in the fury of his work, causes it to snow. It's a lovely story but not so lovely as the snow that falls, every flake beautiful and unique.

When it snows it seems to me that we are part of something greater than our selves, something good, true and eternal, but, most of all, beautiful.