Left of Snow by Peter Andringa What is left of snow? You asked it knowing-- Nothing. Why was there snow? You asked it knowing-- I couldn't stop it, snowing.
Photo courtesy of Mister Wind-up Bird and Flickr's Creative Commons
******
Musings on “Left of Snow” by Deborah Jansen We think we know all about snow. After all, we shovel it, drive through it, and listen to school cancellations when we get too much of it. Scientifically and rationally, we remind ourselves that snow starts as moisture droplets that cling and freeze together randomly. Melting and refreezing takes place, which produces intricate, crystalline shapes that finally reach the ground as snow. But if we stop rehearsing all that we think we know rationally, we finally have room for mystery. When I read my Uncle Peter’s “Left of Snow,” it hushes me and leaves me open to the sacred. It’s an invitation to be present in simple, daily beauty that’s laced with grace. What is it that keeps us gazing at a sparkling prairie under a winter moon? What is it about mystery that keeps us coming back for more? Writing Prompts. . . 1. When was an important first time you remember gazing with childlike wonder at the snow? Did it involve looking out the window, running in it, sledding, building a snowman, making snow angels? Tell me that story. Ten minutes. Go. 2. When was an important first time you remember snow stopping you from doing something you had planned? Did it involve school closing, getting stuck in the snow, a sledding accident, being homebound for days at a time? Tell me that story. Ten minutes. Go.
