This morning in Little Rock we got a dose of wintry mix. If someone passed a note that said, "Do you like Wintry Mix? Check yes or no," I would check no with a fat black crayon.
Until this morning.
I was on my way to a meeting when--just to give my eyeballs a break from taillight staring--I looked up. And saw the trees. I love trees in general, and naked trees in winter are so stark they take my breath away.
These were great big things, older than me, with a broad span of thin black fingers stretched up toward the sky and out toward each other. And a thin layer of bright white snow draped each limb, bough, and twig. What had already been a fine network of life against a whitewashed sky became absolutely delicate. The edgy contrast of black and white cleaving to each other as they twine through the sky with apparent weightlessness captivated me. So much so that it would have very nearly been worth a fender-bender if I could keep my gaze upturned.
So, Wintry Mix, I'm still not voting you for prom queen, but even the least popular form of precipitation has it's loveliness. While I don't think "snow on the naked branches" has a shot at overtaking "silver lining around every cloud" as far as common expressions go, it was, for me a good reminder to seek the bright amidst the gray.