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Notes on Snow

Notes on Snow

What makes us, or I, so enamoured by snow? The frozen, small flakes of ice, crystallised and white, layering up on our streets and encompassing us in a blanket so cold. And yet, we cannot wait to layer up with our warmest garments, and rush into the white with friends, family, and the rest of the population, til our noses and cheeks are red with frost, and we head back inside to blankets, hot chocolate, and the most satisfying warm shower we can remember - one that stings slightly from the temperature change.

Nostalgia is therefore one of the things that creates our love for snow - this nostalgia being even more prominent in a time when snow is becoming rarer, and scarcer than before (at least in the UK).

Nostalgia continues. The prospect of a snow day when you were a kid, rushing to the window to see a world unrecognisable from the one that existed yesterday - knowing that you would be sledding soon with your pals, on a day you should've been in maths class! Then the hot chocolate comes out, a rare treat in my household, to finish up a perfect day.

Snow days get less exciting when you're older. The last time it snowed properly for me I was working at Sainsburys, and there is no hope for supermarkets closing at the sight of snow: it's a shop owner's dream when those snowflakes descend from the sky, as the panic snow brings the British public is unfathomable. At the first sight (or even just talk) of snow, the people start to run to the shop and bulk buy milk and bread, as if the snow was to swallow up every delivery vehicle and home in England, and that we soon would be plunged into an apocalyptic black out. The reality is that everything carries on as normal really, and the snow is usually gone within 2 days.

Despite having to work the last time it snowed, I did have a car then, and the memory of the warmth of my AC blaring as I drove through slowly melting snow steeped streets to Sainsburys is a fond one.

My dad is a postman, and thus hates the snow.

Aside from nostalgia, look at the intricacy that is snow! Few facts I learnt in youth stick with me more than finding out that every snowflake is unique. I love facts like this, ones that centre around uniqueness. Did you know whenever you shuffle a deck of cards, it is almost certain you will be shuffling it that way for the first time in human history? And a pack will likely never be shuffled that way ever again. So when you re-shuffle a deck of cards, or you catch a snowflake on your tongue, you’re destroying something that will never be able to be seen again, destroying a miniscule part of human history that only your eyes or saliva will ever get to know. We could make history every day if we wanted to.

The science behind every snowflake being different is a beautiful one. As a snowflake flies through the air, from cloud to ground, it passes through different layers of humidity and vapour, different wind currents and other life changing factors, each of which changes the snowflake's final form. Poetic, no? Even two snowflakes side by side will go through different levels of humidity and such, each becoming unique. It’s similar to how every twin I know is different from their other half. Snow is full of metaphors, so maybe I love it for its beauty in symbol and in reality.

With the world warming dramatically (I was wearing a tshirt and nothing else in November. In New York City.) I fear we are going to lose snow in England. The North gets some occasionally, but as a southerner, I can't help but fear the loss of snow for me in Winter. What will our children have to look forward to in winter? The snow is a respite from the torrential rain and grey that is winter in the UK.

I’m in Canada right now, and seeing snow properly for what feels like the first time. It doesn't feel like an annoyance, possibly because of how short a time I have been here, but certainly because of its beauty. If my dad came back to Canada, I think he'd learn to love the snow again. And I’m certainly going to feel it's absence when I head back home.


Written in Montreal on the 20th of November 2022