Snowflakes

It began snowing today.  

You look at the window, and there they were, dancing outside, flurry-ing and twinkling.  Little ballerinas, these snowflakes in their white tutus with just a touch of holiday glitter.  Your first visit from them this year.  You can hear their laughter, the excited twitter.   

You take the dog for a walk outside, and they come and perch on him.  He’s popular with the snowflakes, his red fur goes well with the white lace that now coats him.  The air is cold, warm lights shining out from the windows even though it’s the middle of the day.  Where did the snowflakes come from you wonder, as you look upward at the gray sky. 

The air is mysterious with the dance of the snowflakes.  You reach out, and a few cling briefly to your arm.  So crystalline, so delicate.  You think of the word ephemeral.  They stay for a moment, and then they are gone.  Some of the snowflakes stay around a bit longer.  You see them, hanging out on the branches of the evergreens, and clustering around the base of the pots.  You know that they will hurry home soon – they never stay long, at least not anymore.  

Of course it’s a perfect day for those walnut melt-aways that you’ve been eyeing in that cookbook with just five ingredients.  The cookies are pictured in a flurry of powdered sugar with a whole walnut pressed on top, as though someone shook snowflakes over them. Or rather, that the snowflakes descended on them.  

The house fills with the warm smell of butter and walnuts, you shake the powdered sugar over them.  The speed at which they get eaten, the cookies, you know this was going to be their fate.  

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