When it’s that time of year, with the air crisp and fresh and the last golden leaves blowing away for the season, I get very excited. Christmas time has come again, and there’s just nothing quite like it.
It’s pretty obvious, I know: I like christmas lights. Well, love them. But the entire season is what makes christmas lights shimmer with that added energy. People don their down jackets and fleeces, scarves and boots to head outside. They walk differently too; with a sense of purpose and merriment combined. And when the snow finally arrives, we all wish we could bottle the excitement in the air… we’d make a fortune. However, snow is a phenomenon to me. I mean, I understand that it’s merely solid precipitation. But with the arrival of snow comes the arrival of happiness and enthusiasm, reflection and solemnity. It’s a wonderful close to the year, as well as an odd sort of comfort during the trying first weeks on the new year.
Living in Savannah, Georgia for eighteen years of my life did not give me the opportunities to truly experience snow on a cathartic level. Every once in a while, with the rare vacations to the Western states to ski, snow was a foreign concept that proved to really exist. But it wasn’t until I came to Boston for school that I learned the truth about snow.
It’s lovely in December and January; it’s a headache in February; it’s just plain cold March and April.
It truly is a spectacular sight to walk down the streets of old Boston as every ledge and nook glistens with the soft, fluffy icing that Mother Nature has left behind. Beacon Hill becomes a gingerbread village, complete with warm and enticing taverns and shivering but snug little crowds of people caroling down Charles Street. Bay State Road transforms into a winter wonderland with the grand row of trees lining the wide road coated in snow from the bottom of the trunk to the highest branch. Newbury Street remains busy as ever, crowded with umbrellas and taxis with windshield wipers on high, and if you look up just right, the Prudential Center tower has completely vanished. Not to mention the Charles River. It’s completely frozen over on top, and the snowflakes lucky enough to land on the river protect the water life below from the freezing air, and glisten in the sun, brightest of whites during the day.
Snow in Boston is truly an experience. There is no doubting that at all. However, as I sit here now, on March 31, 2011, it continues to snow outside. A wintry mix has enveloped the city once again, and my ski jacket claims priority over my vest again. Snow’s time has come and gone, and it needs to move on in life, just as many of us students need to move on with our studies.
I look forward to seeing you again in December, snow. But as for now, I’ll show to you to the door.
With the warmest of regards, Zach