It is cold here in Buffalo, New York today. Temperatures fell below freezing last night. There is a lacy glaze of sparkling white rime along the roof tops. The sidewalks shine blackly, the iced over sheen of frozen rain. Still, there is a weird beauty about this frozen tableau. We haven’t seen or lived in icy climes in over fifteen years. They don’t “do” snow in South Florida.
Outside, the landscape might look somewhat bleak to some. To me it has the allure of a Norman Rockwell painting or a Currier and Ives Print. And although we don’t have a fireplace in our condo in Amherst, one can imagine the warmth and pleasure of sitting in front of one, with a burning yule log sparking with glowing embers.
The wind at these temperatures has a clean feeling as it caresses your face. It is chilly for us, but not uncomfortable. Memories of monumental snowfalls and blizzards, from years past, make us appreciate the temporary beauty of a snowy scene.
We are living in the age of the Corona virus. Everything, except for drug and grocery stores, is closed. It is both too cold and too windy to go walking around the neighborhood. We have taken these last few days to picking up some wonderful take-out coffee, from either Tim Horton’s or Dunkin Donuts, and “going for an automobile ride in the country,” like we used to do when we were younger and we didn’t have any money to do anything else. It is comfortable to survey the green, though sodden fields of farmers in and around our area. Tractors have already tilled much of the soil. It was much warmer here in the weeks past.
I saw for the first time in a long time yesterday the magic of falling snow. Gentle flakes drifted along on the winds, making almost a movie set for a Winter picture. I had forgotten how pretty the fine white flakes can be. On one road, a landscaper was driving a grass cutter, mowing the lawn. This seemed a little out of place in the falling snow.
People who had planted their favorite flowers early will be disappointed. The night-long freeze will take most of the early shoots. The farmer’s almanac always cautioned against planting things hereabouts until after Memorial Day. I guess they will just have to start over again. Life is funny like that. You do get a second chance at most things.
We see and appreciate the visage of those wonderful flowering dogwood trees standing along the roadsides. They have usually lost their lacy buds by the time we return to Western New York. It is the timeless beauty of Spring that captures us. After a long and dreary Winter, the ethereal magic of green grass, and spouting flowers and trees, is enough to liven the spirit and restore hope to everyone. Hopefully, Spring will have that effect on the falling spirits of the whole Corona Virus pandemic and the personal and financial havoc that it has wrought. Medical experts do report progress in finding ways to treat the illness. They are also on the scent of a cure. It will be a while, but a least there is hope. And a little hope can carry people a long way.