Cold and Bold

Every time it snows I think of Narnia. Seriously. When it falls down from the sky, when it covers trees and grass, making slippery sidewalks and icicle-adorned buildings, I think of Narnia. And then it melts, with dripping icicles creating a steady drip-drip-drip beat and puddles of melted white in every crevice of the sidewalk and even if it is the beginning of winter, it fees like spring. And I think of Narnia, when the White Witch is finally defeated, Aslan victoriously returns, and Narnia finally gets Christmas and Spring again, freed from their prison of ice and cold. That's where my mind goes every time it snows.

As much as I truly despise being cold, I don't hate the snow. I mean if it's going to be that cold, it might as well snow and everything be beautiful and white. It snowed this week, and it was spectacular. Colorado has been having a very strange fall. The leaves only started changing colors three or so weeks ago, because it has been so warm. Usually when it snows, the trees have lost most of their leaves, but not with this snow.

The trees were still covered in colorful leaves, crimsons and bright oranges, bright yellows and a few mottled combinations of all three. And they were covered in snow. I've never seen such beautiful trees. Everything was covered in a layer of soft white, the vibrant colors of fall still bravely peeking through.

The snow was so heavy it made most of the leaves fall off their trees. But that was beautiful too. When the beginning-to-melt snow froze in the late night cold, it covered all the fallen leaves in a thin layer of frost. Early in the morning, you could still see it. Sidewalks covered in a layer of leaves, their blanket of ice sparkling and glittering in the sun.

And when it all started melting, that was beautiful, because, even though really it is the beginning of winter, it felt like spring, looked like spring, and smelled like spring, fresh and alive, waiting for the next snowfall to cover the world in white again.