I walked home in the snow last night. I don’t particularly like snow, or winter, or cold weather, or being out in it. I am not crazy about snow boots and hats and gloves and buttoning my coat. But I did it. I do it. I do like being out alone in the snow. I like how quiet everything gets. I like how the snow blankets the world and mutes it. Hushes it. I like how everything is transformed by the snow. It looks like itself, but it’s not quite itself. Anyway, the bus dropped me off and at first I was feeling a little grumbly, walking the 6 blocks in the thick mush. But then I turned around and looked behind me and realized there was no one around. And realized how quiet it was. And looked up and saw the ice clinging to the tree branches. The tree branches that just a few hours before had been bare and ugly–stickly and gnarled. And I smiled. And I liked it. And I walked along. Trying to capture the snow and the beauty with my phone. Trying to make a memory that I’m not sure is fully formed. I like being on my own. I like being alone with my thoughts and my actions. Fumbling with my feet through the six inches of snow as I hum and laugh and talk to myself. For once enjoying the season that usually leaves me feeling lethargic and hibernate-y. You just gotta appreciate those moments when you can. When you’re alone and there’s no one around to interfere, to taint the experience, to color it in any way. Purely you. Purely yours. A little nugget of treasure.