Fairytale
This morning I stepped out of the house into an frozen slushy fairytale. It snowed all night, and right after dawn the luminous contours of the icy branches glowed with their own light, casting haloes on the underbelly of the stormy sky.
It is so quiet when it snows, especially with these oversized snowflakes, plump and heavy like goose down. There were no sounds around me, no birds, no squirrels, no cars, no dogs, no people, no rustling of trees, not even my own footsteps, just the crack and the thud of another fallen tree branch every now and then and the slow sifting of wet feathers falling from the sky.
I looked at the familiar landscape and almost didn’t recognize it, adorned as it was with its untainted veil of snow, a veil so heavy that it weighed down the branches all the way to the ground, making the trees look as if they were taking a bow.
It took a few more minutes for the sky to settle into its nondescript wintry color, a grayish milky white with no hint of blue, and then the entire landscape followed its lead and turned black and white.
I stood for a while, and stared in awe at the strange transformation of the world around me, until my hands started hurting from the frost bite and a deep shiver chilled me to the bone, and then I figured it would look just as splendid through a window, and I stoodbetter odds of not catching pneumonia.
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