Snow

This morning, we woke up with the world blanketed in white. Zak exclaimed, "Oh dear, dear, dear!" when he saw the cars covered in snow. It was the first time I've seen the sky feeling the same way as the earth: cold, dull, white, expansive, but romantic. No wonder England has Byron, Shelley, Wordsworth, Tennyson, Shakespeare, to name but a few. Who wouldn't be poetic in this variable weather? Just yesterday, I soaked up the sun on my way to work, a bit disappointed that the much-hyped snow would still be in Siberia. But then this morning's surprise brought on vivid images from scenes of While You Were Sleeping. From our window, I watched the people on the streets walking about like it was usual for them to trudge on snow every morning, to feel the snowflakes in their faces, to see their breath. It was magic. But in the same vein, I thought of Surigao and how hot I must have been if I was there at this hour. But then again, Wordsworth's To a Snowdrop resounds rather optimistically- "Chaste Snowdrop, venturous harbinger of Spring..."

But no, not yet! I am enjoying this winter time, bisan nakalimot na ko nan baho nan ako huyas. It doesn't sound healthy, but I had almost three decades of the sun to myself I want to enjoy every minute of this season.