First Snow

 

First Snow

If there is anything that never fails to stir up the little child’s heart in me, it is the first snowfall of the year.  Notice that I didn’t say the first snow of the year.  Many times, that comes in the teeth of a bleak November driving rain.  As you stare out through the car windshield or window of your home, you notice that in the midst of the raindrops there are larger drops that splat against the window and tiny ice crystals linger for just a brief moment before melting.  Within minutes, all of the raindrops, like butterflies emerging in midflight, morph into huge wet snowflakes.  But the first snowfall is when the entire landscape transforms from tawny and brown to pristine white, as if the world had been covered in fresh, clean linen sheets.

The weather forecasters had difficulty of course.  Everything depends on the fickleness of high- altitude temperatures.  How early in the storm will the rain to into snow, and will the snow change back to rain before the inevitable northwest wind comes in behind to sweep the clouds away like so much collected dust?  The previous evening the prediction was that all areas would get some accumulating snow, maybe as much as two inches.  The late-night forecast was more dire, calling for most of the area to get four inches with some areas as much as eight.  The morning forecast was downgraded to two to maybe three inches.  Of course, most areas wound up with closer to four inches.  There is a lot of science in weather prediction these days, and while most of it is good, none of it is exact.  As the psalmist says, “Some trust in chariots and horses, but we in the name of the Lord!” Psalm 20:8

Most of the accumulation took place during the night, as correctly predicted.  I had awakened way too early to get up, and I could tell that the bedroom was brighter than it should have been at that hour.  Younger me would probably have been too excited to get back to sleep; current me didn’t have any issue with snuggling deeper into the covers.  I awakened a short time later though as wave after wave of sandhill cranes, trumpeting coarsely and loudly passed low over the house.  They sounded like they all decided to get out of town. 

I decided to get up and went into the kitchen to get the coffee started.  After the coffee was brewing, I went over to look out the patio door.  The snow was slanting across the sky; it was fairly windy.  But the snow was much too wet to drift; instead, it was flat and level across the yard.  There was some accumulation on the trees, but not enough to threaten any limbs.  That was welcome news. 

Some of the most peaceful moments of my life have been spent watching a snowfall.  This one was no different.  Each time I went into the kitchen for a coffee refill I paused to watch the snow.  By mid-morning the flakes became heavier and the sky thickened.  Some might have been concerned that the storm was still building, but I recognized this final flurry as the snowfall always intensifies for a brief period as the snow changes back to rain and then the sky dries out altogether.  As expected, this one had exhausted itself in the next half hour.

The temperature climbed to 40 degrees which was more than enough to begin to immediately begin to quickly melt what had taken hours to pile up.  Soon after lunch the roads were melted clean, so it was a good time for a walk.

I could hear the mallards’ raspy calls and the gabbling of geese well before I could see the surface of the big retention pond.  An eagle turned circles low overhead, perhaps looking to see if there was an easy target for breakfast.  The waterfowl reacted with some increased intensity of their calling, but none of them took flight.  By the time I got to the point that I could see the pond’s surface the eagle was turning circles a half mile away. 

I guessed that there were at least a thousand geese on the pond.  A few gabbled a little louder as I passed by on the road, but they seemed relatively unconcerned.  But near the far end, there were a dozen or so geese picking at the shoreline grasses nearer the road that had re-emerged through the melting snow.  Maybe they felt too exposed on the dry land, so they took flight, honking rigorously.  That set all of the mallards to flight.  You can tell a mallard by the way they can spring almost straight upward off the water.  Then bunches of the remaining geese also took to the sky.  Maybe half the geese were now in the air, some still climbing and some now circling back.  It gave the sky kind of a swirling effect.  Probably half of the airborne geese resettled in the pond; the rest headed off seeking another haven.

The sun broke through as I turned for home.  The brightness of the snow intensified.  As I

passed by the pond again the geese didn’t seem to notice at all - maybe they recognized me and knew I intended no harm.  By the time I reached home the snow had settled and melted enough that it looked patchy with spots of lawn already poking back through.  Sometimes the first snow stays until spring if the temperature plummets, but that won’t be the case with this one.  Just as well as I have a number of tasks to do in the yard yet before true winter comes to stay for a longer while.  And unlike younger me, current me wasn’t upset at all that the snow didn’t come to stay and play – most of my best sledding days are behind me anyway.

His Peace <><

Deacon Dan