Snowing outside the window

Since it's a new year, I thought, 'That's a good excuse to change the blogskin', and here we are. I went through a few templates and settled on this one. It's a lot simpler than my previous one, but I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

It took me ages to get the chatbox to co-operate though. I just couldn't get it to the right width to fit. And blogspot doesn't have the time stamp format of "MMM, DD", so that looks a bit messy.

Now please sit back and appreciate the pretty photographs I have in this post. It's the view outside the photographer's window when it snowed in Toronto today. All credits for the photo goes to Zhang Jigna (aka zemotion), an amazing photographer. I have her blog in my blog list, so you can go and look at the original post titled 'Snowing'.

There's a very peaceful vibe coming from the photos. I can imagine myself sitting in front of the window, looking out, and seeing the snow flutter down past my window. If I keep still enough, I think I could hear it, hear the soft sounds of snowflakes landing on my roof like light-footed dancers.


I imagine very few people would be out, and those that are would be hurrying to their destination, hands in pockets to keep themselves warm against the chilly air. I could feel a shadow of it, the cold seeping through the window and into the room, even as the glass keeps out the frigid currents.


I might put my hands against the glass, and feels the cold from outside permeate through my palms, but they can spread no further than that. I hold my cooled hands to my face, and against the flushed heat of my cheeks, it feels like I had held snow in my hands, instead of glass. It's almost as if I took a piece of the outside, that little piece of the cold, and brought it inside through the barrier of glass.


From above, I watch as a middle aged lady walk down the street, hurrying, paying little thought to the falling snow. The town, lulled to sleep by the soft flutter of snow, stirs at her hurried footsteps. She pass out of my field of sight, and the town becomes still again. With my forehead against the cool window, I stand and let the snowflakes' quiet tempo sooth my mind.




...That one came out of nowhere. I didn't plan to write that. But I wish I really could have had that experience. I love snow, but I haven't seen very much of it in my life.