Gifts of a Minnesota Snowstorm

"Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed." -- Mary Oliver 

I have been thinking lately of the significance of a Minnesota snow storm.  For a little while, it's all we can talk about, the moisture falling from the sky coming to nourish the earth (eventually), consumes our conversation, our attention and my Facebook news feed.  The flurries of conversation echo the flurries of flakes.  Both have a hunger for mystery.  Snow comes and disguises the ground.  Is that a snowbank or a sleeping giant?  Why could be hiding in the covered evergreen?  It also makes all the hard edges of the landscape soft, and looking at the snow, the whiteness might for a moment be considered warm.

I miss terribly my dear friend, Mandy, who delights in a snowstorm.  Having a low tolerance for cold, I borrow some enthusiasm from her.  She loves the snow in the same manner as a large dog would; her personality in all its gregarious graciousness is very like these creatures.  She is many things I am not, which makes our friendship a beautiful give and take.  I wish today, as if the falling snowflakes were falling stars, for a coffee date with conversation to borrow some of her snowy spirit.  They glisten almost the same, perhaps it'll work.

It is March, and the snow is starting to wear on me.  As a native Minnesotan still living in state, I need to remind myself of an old creed of mine: "You may not be upset with snow when it comes between Halloween and Easter.  After or before, be mad.  In between, embrace what is." Snow drives people like Mandy, bless her, out into the whiteness filled with wonder.  Her laughter fills me with delight.  Snow drives people inside, to cozy fires, sweats and socks, to old movies, popcorn and quality time with each other.  Winter warmth might not be in the sunshine, but it is in the company of one another.  And in each others' shelter, the people live, grow, and are nourished by the snow.