I awoke shortly before six this morning feeling as though an explosive had detonated in my head.  Before my back surgery in 1996, I used to get migraines every day.  They were great debilitating assaults from which very little could offer reprieve.  So I’m no stranger to them, although since then I generally don’t get them often.  But when I do…

So ouch.

It has clung to me all day like a suckling parasite.  The malaise that accompanies them bestows its own suffering by way of mental stupor.  It’s been difficult to find motivation or inspiration.  Yet hope is not lost as it’s now slowly fading away, the blinding light of a train finally disappearing down a dark tunnel.  Meanwhile, I’ve napped.  A lot.

But this morning had more to offer than the headache from hell.  Ay, poppets, we had a wee touch of the winter—again.

I suppose it was around eight when I first realized it had begun sleeting.  Mixed in with the icy pellets were occasional flakes of snow.

As the morning progressed, we saw less sleet and more snow, and around ten the sky was alight with cold confetti silently falling in heavy curtains, large, beautiful white flakes coming in droves as they followed spiraling paths toward the ground.  The scene was tranquil, quiet in that snowy way that is most admirable, most agreeable.  I stood and watched as the air filled with the stuff.  They journeyed so elegantly, so serenely.

Because our temperatures hovered right at or just above freezing, no one feared treacherous road conditions or accumulation, but oh what a show while it lasted.

There comes a peace with snow that cannot be found in any other kind of precipitation.  It’s the hush of the thing.  Unless driven by tempest winds, snow brings with it an unhurried, leisurely feeling, as though all the worry and stress of the world can wait for but a moment while nature puts on her dazzling white gown for all the world to see.

What a welcome sight it was.  Migraine or no migraine, those few hours of heavenly decorating soothed and comforted like nothing else can.

But it’s all gone now, I’m afraid.  Most of it melted the instant it reached the ground, although a bit here and there remained long enough to look more promising than it actually was.

I could almost hear the earth pleading needfully, “Let me hold it to my bosom for a minute or two more.  Please, allow me this frigid caress from the clouds.  Even if only temporarily, let me wear this frosty blanket so that you might see the loveliness cold has to offer.”

But it was not meant to be.  Now the streets are dry, the ground carries no signs of the event, and no promises of more to come will be made… at least not yet.