After a two-day blizzard: a sense of intimacy

Winter is often described as heavy, and I get that. But there’s also an effervescent lightness about the kind of winter that I miss. The kind I caught a quick glimpse of a few weeks ago when spending the weekend in Russia after it had just been snowed in.

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A memory of snow

It is late fall of 1997. I go out for a morning walk with my dog. It has been snowing the whole night. First real snow this year. My dog is exuberant with joy. She is playing with the snow as if it were an old and dear friend. She is jumping around, baring her teeth in what seems like a genuine big smile. Her red tongue is hanging out. She is tasting the snow. Or is she talking to it?

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