Snowfall (in the Rye)

I used to live in an apartment complex until I was 16. The family moved to our house in my first high school year (though in the US it would technically be my second year...). Now, I'm not saying we have this big lawn or nothing, but out the back, we have a great space for a BBQ, and we have lilacs, roses, herbs, rhubarb, black and red currant bushes and whatnots. A smaller garden. You'd like it. The front of the house has a small garden patch as well, but it's entirely dominated by the apple tree. I adore the apple tree. I like every season, though autumn is by far my favorite. Living in Stockholm, a lot of seasons rain away, but if we're lucky, autumn can turn out magnificently. You should see it. It's goddam priceless. Spring seldom turns out good, so it's my least favorite (May is nice though). But our apple tree is the one thing I like most about spring. It's a thing of sheer beauty, I'll tell you that. But, back to what I was talking about (I'm terrifically adept in getting sidetracked. You may not notice at first, I don't know who you are after all, I can't very well just guess that you'd be that clever. If I did, it would sorta feel like I was giving you a something for nothing, you know what I'm saying?)

So. Since we moved, I have this winter tradition. Or perhaps, I should call it a valued habit. If the first snow falls during the day, I go out the back and make footprints through the white blanket covering the lawn (like I'm damn well ten years old or something). Sometimes I think of taking my kid sister Nina with me. She's terrific. But mostly I just don't.
Now's the thing. If the first snow turns up during the night (and I'm still up to see it that is, can't goddam well do nothing 'bout it if I'm asleep now can I?) I go out front and dance about a bit in the snowfall. Mostly I just twirl around a bit with open arms and leave footprints up and down the street close to home. Nothing fancy. Nothing crazy either, if that's what you're thinking. It's not like I go all out a throw a damn party, I just twirl about a bit like I said. Very modest really, you should see it. I don't really horse around. You have to feel like it. I don't feel like horsing around.

Somehow first snow makes me happy. This time of year usually gets me down. The colors and beauty of autumn have lost to the gray of the season, and I feel drained. I don't do too hot in this gray shit. I've had teachers telling me I always seemed distant and tired during late fall/early winter. I was surprised they noticed. Then again, they probably thought they were on to something, telling my parents I was distracted. As if I couldn't tell they were all phony. Some were OK though. And some were just phony bastards.

Anyway, going out in the snow makes me feel like I'm greeting the season the way I wish I greeted life in general: with hopes and childish infatuations and a lighter heart. The feeling don't last long, but it's swell. Knocks me out.
Stockholms first snow of the season fell last week when I was out of town. Since I didn't see any of it, it don't count. So when I saw the flakes flying past the window tonight, I put on my jacket and scarf and stepped out. It was almost 2 a.m. The snowflakes were melting almost the instant they touched ground. Nothing for me to twirl in. But of course I already knew that. I ain't blind, looking out the goddam window. I stepped about a bit, breathing the ear. It was crisp and wet at the same time. I could explain it, but you shoulda been there. I had my camera with me, so I took some pictures of the apple trees in it's new winter coat. It was looking sharp.

As I was standing there on the street, face turned to the sky, I heard a car stop and someone stepping out and talking to the driver. I stood there until the steps came closer and then I turned to see this guy walking down the street. I guessed he's been out to a party or something. I don't know what he guessed, me standing there with the camera and all, in that weather. We looked at each other and nodded our heads in a hello and somehow it all seemed so amusing that I smiled and then he smiled this corny little smile right before he went past me, and I took another couple of pictures and then I walked inside. But I couldn't stop smiling, it was all so goddam beautiful and simple.

In the immortal words of Holden Caufield: It killed me.