Snow, Jan. 18

Dear Diary,

It started snowing last night. It is still snowing.

The flakes are soft and light. There is no ice yet. It is just a little windy.

When I stepped out the door at 5:45 in the morning, the silence and crystalline drifting snow glittering from the warm light of the streetlamp encased me in this strange moment of peace.

It’s a blur: the industrial sublime and the valley’s power far beyond my comprehension—a different way to express the way sublime.

Please, Diary, try not to think of these sublimes as a binary on a linear spectrum. But what is it if not a binary? What is a linear spectrum?

I love snows like this. The blanket of snow insulates the ground. Eventually, the snow will be drink for our plant friends. Right now, they hibernate under the blanket of snow. The heavy grey clouds insulate the atmosphere.

The fog obscures the openness of the Laramie Valley.

It is cold and snuggly.

At least for me. I have the privilege of comfort and convenience. I am fed. I have shelter.

There are those out there that are cold and wet.

My heart goes out to them. That is not enough. It is a start, but it is not enough.

Care is so critical. Yet, it is so inaccessible, Diary.

I think care might come from love and emotional intelligence to think beyond ourselves.

Life is wet.

Life is glittery.

Life is cold.

Life is love.

More to come, promise