Snow's Loud Silence

This morning, I woke up to grey light creeping through my curtains. I thought, perhaps, I was waking up just as the sun was breaking. When I rolled out of bed and stepped over Agatha, the view from my washroom window showcased a magnificent ballad of snow cascading down from the sky. The white dots black out the line up of backyards I would usually see. Agatha begs to be let out for her morning wee as she launches herself down the stairs.

Outside, the world is silent. A deafening silence, as you wonder if your hearing just stopped working. Whisps of wind push the snow through the air. Agatha's paws make small crunches in the snow. Cars are gingerly navigating the roads. What would be loud yet typical noises are muffled under the weight of the accumulation. 

We go back into the house and I fed Agatha. She has her routines: pee, eat breakfast, take her medication, then back outside for more fresh air. While my coffee brews, I open the back door to an untouched canvas, which I do not want to disturb. However, Agatha gallops from the kitchen and outside, only to stand in a bewildered state. She glances all around her, perhaps taking in the winter's majesty or confused why Phil still is not home. Her deep thoughts do not last long. Before I can call her in, she dives head first into the mounds and emerges, smacking her lips from the mouthful of fresh, frozen drops that will help keep her full. The residue of the flakes give her freckles, not unlike her alpha father, and she continues to eat as if I never fed her. 

I grab my coffee and lean against the door frame, also in a state of bewilderment. At dinner last night, my friend's niece was hoping for a snow day. Half-assed arguments broke out over whether she would get her wish. Not having kids or anywhere to be, I did not look to see if schools were open. For me, right now, every day is a snow day. 

At the back of the house, the snow drowns out any indication that we live on a busy road. Even the trees do not creek loud enough to break the silence. As my legs start to turn into icicles from the freezing cold air, I remain still. I love to stand and listen to the white noise. The swirling flakes dancing to the ground just add another layer of noise cancellation. Now is a good time for reflection, deep thought and finding clarity.

Until I hear my neighbour fart, cough on his last cigarette puff, and shuffle back into his basement lair. 

What do you love about the snow?