2001-11-13 - 10:44 a.m.

You know, I have plenty of little reasons to complain about the place I'm living right now. It's small, I have very little furniture, it's nearly impossible to keep the temperature at a happy medium, there is a large crack running the whole length of one of the living room windows. The list goes on and on. But one thing I can say, the place has its share of magic about it, too.

The best picture I have of what the area behind my deck looks like is here, but it doesn't really show what it looks like. I could take a picture of it right now, but it would be far too utilitarian instead of actually being a decent picture, so I'm not going to bother. I'll just describe it.

If you stand on my deck and look toward those trees, there is a cove in the trees, a small indentation where no trees are growing, surrounded by tall trees, pine, fir, and various others. Yesterday morning, I didn't have to work because it was Veteran's (Veterans'?) Day. So I woke up thinking how great it was that the only thing I really *had* to do by a certain time that day was to go to the post office, so I decided to do this first thing in the morning. That's right, I thought to myself "The only thing I have to do today is go to the post office, because it's a National Holiday." Leave me alone, I'd been awake for minutes when I came to that conclusion, and I'd probably slept about four and a half hours the night (or rather, morning) before.

So I pulled on some clothes, my shoes, and a jacket and stepped out onto my deck. And that's when I saw it.

Mark Twain had a quote, "If you don't like the weather in New England, wait five minutes." I've heard this quote a few times, often said by TV weathermen, because this state definitely adheres to that idea. So I thought I'd seen everything I was ever going to see. At least, until I move out of here. I mean, I've never seen a tornado, but chances are, as long as I'm in Maine, I'm not going to. But I thought I'd seen every type of your more basic weather patterns ever. And that's when I found myself staring in awe at what was just out my front door yesterday morning.

As soon as I stepped out the door, a small white Something whipped down past one of the trees at the end of the cove, flew over the ground, and past my head. Then more of them did the same. Glowing in the morning sun, these tiny, zipping white specks were like tiny fairies, flying in all directions around my yard. One would zip right while another ducked under it moving left. Up and down, around, past me over and over again, I couldn't tell what these things were, and they were evading capture, every one I tried to catch flying over my hands. It was a truly amazing sight.

Finally I did catch one, but it disappeared before I could see it, leaving nothing but a cold spot where it was. I laughed at myself. Just snow flakes. But still, I'd never seen this before. It was snowing Over There somewhere, I couldn't tell where, but the wind, twisting and directed straight at my house by the tunnel through the trees, left these snow flakes looking alive, playful, happily zipping around my house until I finally stepped onto my bike and rode off, regretting not wearing my hat and gloves and feeling really stupid when I pulled up to the dark, empty post office.

And when I came back, numb with cold, I was still smiling a stupidly happy smile. Because, despite living in Maine all my life, or maybe because of it, I normally don't like winter. But for that day, those moments, it was great, because the winter was alive. It was alive, it was magical, and I got to touch it, even if just for an instant.