it's november in northern norway.
i've been waiting for it to snow for weeks now, getting all jazzed up thinking about christmas cards with landscapes covered in powder snow. beautiful, fluffy and pristine. soft shapes and air so cold it makes your breath freeze and your nose tingle. children with red cheeks and bright eyes, making snow-angels.
when i watch the snow fall, it looks nice and perfectly white. i remember what falling snow sounds like. like absolutely nothing. all sounds are muffled, there's complete silence to be found in between falling snowflakes. it gets too much to watch from inside, too many memories of the pretty white stuff. i wake up the dog and head out.. and reality slaps me in the face. i've moved just south of the arctic circle and i live on the coast. not exactly good conditions for powder snow. as soon as the perfect snowflakes hit the ground they turn into grey slush, the dog runs around in the grey wetness, thrilled to be able to splash around outside. i keep my christmascard-images in a mental vise as i look around. if i stand completely still, it still sounds like snow. like absolutely nothing. and i am happy.
