Snow, snow, beautiful snow!
I went to Utah this past month. And yes, to my delight I got to see the beautiful snow.
I opened up the blinds everyday to see the wonderment of the snow falling, building up, and sparkling with the sunshine.

Snow, snow, beautiful snow.
I wanted to experience it but, now I think it is much more beautiful for me looking at it from the window.
I think I’ll stick to my love of the warm sun and sand of the California coast!

I never learned to ski, or skate, or sl…okay, yes, I did go sledding. I went often, and quite often on streets covered in ice (this was another great reason for growing up in a small city). I also could build a pretty good snowman, cry hard enough to get my brother into trouble when he “white-washed” me, and made beautiful snow angels. As a teenager with an eye for beauty, I would often stand outside at night in the muffled quiet of the falling snow and just let it soak in around me. I didn’t mind the cold, then.

But, I grew older, and somehow, my bones grew colder. Snow is now a nuisance, one I was glad to be rid of when we moved from Utah to California. I have enjoyed the rain over the ice, and I’m glad I don’t have to bundle up my children to walk outside. Still, I do admit, that part of me remembers those fun times running around in the white stuff and breathing in the icy air. I think I’ll enjoy a visit or two, but I’m okay with leaving it behind.

We recently moved to Alaska and upon our arrival we were assualted with all kinds of tips and info on how to survive an alaskan winter. The focus is on simply making it to the grocery store without getting frostbite. I have learned in my first three months of this winter, (that’s right three months, and there are three more to go) that growing up in a small mountain town in Utah is pretty darn close to Anchorage winters. I was prepared for the unplowed roads, biting winds, that little -negative sign in front of the numbers, and my dad taught me how to navigate an icy hill without burning rubber.

But even with all the preparation, how-tos, and please don’ts (tongue on the flag pole) my breath is taken away every morning, as that phenomena of fresh fallen snow is frozen in place by the colder artic air. It is perpetual newly fallen snow bliss. The branches maybe get a little tougher up here as they must hold the weight of the snow in place for days and even weeks. Good lesson I guess for a girl far from home.

And that the giant fluffy flakes that fell this afternoon were more noticed and appreciated because of what I’d read here today?

And, speaking of snow, this story warmed my heart.

I know what’s going to happen. No surprise. The little boys are going to be creamed. Smashed. And at least two of my brothers will come in crying with a bloody nose, or maybe a bloody lip.

And I’m not allowed out. But if I was, I’d probably help the other side, this time.

we don’t have snow, really–so I don’t really believe in it. I was seven when I first saw them filming at t.v. chase on my walk home from school. Later I saw snow sifted on actors wearing sweaters in the 80 degree weather, aided by hot lights and white reflecting umbrellas. snow is the illusion we sell to people in other parts of the country. It keeps our parents employed as editors, assistant producers, and caterers. near as I can tell, snow is some kind of emptiness that we can sell the escape from, or the adventure through. an emptiness that i need not fear, growing up in los angeles on the other side of the camera.