The Beauty Of A Storm

When the winter sky lowers and presses in on our lives, entangling us in skeins of wind and snow, we seem to have adopted the modern habit of first pressing our noses to the window of our television sets, leaving the curtains drawn on the view to our own backyards.

The broadcast view of a winter storm is full of alarm, caution, and ministrations to misery. We watched Monday night as a local television reporter complained bitterly to the snug, coifed anchors about having to be out in the weather, gesticulating in theatrical fashion to the swirling snow, and wondering, segue-fashion, when these hardships would end… cut to the weatherman. Having had enough of this blizzard of blarney, we turned off the television and went to the window to have a look for ourselves. It was beautiful. It was also time to do more shoveling.

Yes, there are hardships that come with winter storms. Motorists on Route 25 sat in long serpentine lines late Monday afternoon, while police and highway crews worked to pull wayward cars and trucks from snowbanks back onto the highway and set everyone on their way – at least until the next vehicle slipped off the road, which was always soon. Schools were closed, appointments were missed, important meetings were canceled, flights were grounded, and everywhere there were mountains of new snow to be shoveled from steps and paths.

The thing we like most about a big winter storm, however, is that it does interrupt us. It makes us stop and take notice that something powerful and overwhelming is taking place. And when we do stop and notice we see that despite all its hardships, the world is still an astonishingly beautiful place.