Winter approached with rapidity and with the season the promise of that most glorious of happenstances, fresh snow. Something about that substance creates within me a joy comparative to almost none other, a connectivity passing back through my ages without dilution or abatement. I was bred for wintertime, born in late February when the weather seems at its most frigid and bleak, yet also lays all before our eyes in virginal splendor and promise.
Falling unfettered and carefree from the unadulterated purity of the heavens to the corrupting influence of the earth, so doth that miraculous seasonal adornment echo the very nature and dilemma of humanity itself. Born in innocence, obliged to fall without exception, fixed or melted at natures whim. A small geometric flake miraculously transmuted by those same alchemical forces that have captivated mankind from Phoenician, though Druid, to renaissance giant Leonardo da Vinci, filling collective imaginings with wild thoughts of natural lore and overwhelming creational concepts.