Snow is like life and I am ok with that. It can’t be postponed.

Winter, 2010 Poetry & Philosophy
Guest Author: Nancy Budge

Wednesday, December 30, 2009 Boise, Idaho Nancy Budge I still have not realized there is no finish line, but I come closer when it snows. Snow is so beautiful, especially the snow like what is on the ground right now. It quiets the world down, the world outside and the world inside. If that isn’t enough to keep me present, there’s Buster, the robust juvenile tabby tom cat. Apparently he thinks shoveling snow is cause for the grandest of celebrations. He races under the arc of snow being thrown off the shovel and barrels his way thought the piles of powder. Back and forth, he only stops when I do, all four legs spread and ready to spring into action, looking up to say, “Keep going, we’re having too much fun.” Whether I shovel again or put the shovel down against the house, no matter, because he’s off and running with a bounce and a pounce fueled by the simple joy of being alive. Another great thing about snow is that it so obviously impermanent. In fact, within a very short time span, its properties will change dramatically, its density, its color, its traction, the way it behaves under foot or under car tires, its taste, its lack of convenience, even its existence at all. Snow makes being in the moment an imperative. I remember once or maybe twice when I lived in LaGrande I was so enthralled by a big snowfall that I would pack some of the snow up in a ball, put it in a baggie and then in the freezer. It was like putting a book on the shelf that I would read later or a report in my desk drawer for future study or tucking an email away in a file. But it was never the same as the snow in the yard the day it fell. Snow is like life and I am ok with that. It can’t be postponed.

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