We don’t get a lot of snow in the greater Seattle area, but several times a year we do get a little, especially at our house where the elevation is slightly higher. Most of the time, it doesn’t stick. It just falls gently from the sky and melts before hitting the ground.
From our lower living area, we can watch the snow fall from several large picture windows that often make it feel more like we’re sitting beneath the towering firs and cedars out back than sitting on the couch.
Yesterday, I sat there completely mesmerized by the falling snow. At some point I had looked up from my knitting needles and noticed the white flakes dancing just outside the window. I couldn’t stop staring.
Having grown up around snow, you would think it was no longer a novelty. But, for whatever reason, it never gets old. Nature has a way of nudging us slightly (and sometimes not so slightly) with its beauty to get our attention.
It felt indulgent just to sit there and watch the snow while enjoying a cup of coffee under the warmth of my crocheted afghan.
An act of self-care for sure.