there is something about waking up the in morning, bundling up and walking out of the building to be greeted by gently falling snow. falling snow that lightly dusts your cheeks, sprinkling your coat and falling into your wide open mouth.

flurries of light snow, white visible raindrops falling from the sky. what makes it so appealing, so novel? the fact that it is snow itself? or that it is white? the colour stands out so well... snow trapped in the last remmants of grass -- white on green; snow caught on the peat, branches and dead leaves lying in a patch -- white on brown; snow falling between the crevices of rocks and pebbles -- white on gray brown red...

the vast expanse of sky, uncluttered by skyscrapers... dreary and bleak, a whitish-gray yet contrasting so well when viewed from between the gaps of bare, stripped branches of trees that have succumbed to the autumn change. The vestiges of leaves that still remain hang from their branches, the little yellow and brown in an otherwise gray and white landscape.

yet. the beauty of simple, minimalistic colours is juz that. simple and minimalistic. the beauty resounds deep inside, upwelling a quiet appreciation and gratefulness that the One who crafted those beautiful snowflakes and marvelous landscapes, did me too.

the light pattering of snow, almost like rain, only that it is visible. the obvious crosswinds that blow the snow dust in all directions, swirling them above your head, then shooting it straight at you. the accumulated snow on the cars, branches, buildings, even your jacket. the small amount of snow on the ground that gets picked up by low winds and encircles your leg.

snow. sleet. slush. frost.

winter wonderland