Got our first snowfall yesterday here in Wheaton. Stacey and I act like 5-year-olds each winter, eagerly anticipating the first snowfall and gleefully rejoicing in it when it arrives. Just love it. Goodness. What a strange joy, but very real.
Have you ever--ever--stopped and considered snow? I mean really considered it? Beyond the hassle it is for driving? What it does to your soul? Or have you (as I have in so many ways) 'sinned and grown old,' as Chesterton says, numbed by a lifetime of sit-coms, unable to wonder?
I was lying on the sofa yesterday too sleepy to keep reading a book and opening my eyes I saw out our front window, against the sky, a mass of hundreds of interweaving branches from three or four giant locust trees, each branch carrying a perfect little mound of snow along its winding tentacles. The complexity of it all seemed infinite. I could not take it all in. It was too much. My little mind cannot digest it. It is inexhaustible wonder.