As I get close to my “blogging day,” I generally start thinking about what I might want to write about. This week, I’ve been contemplating a post about villainizing (what the administration is now doing to all Afghans and many other brown-skinned people after the National Guard shooting in DC), making soup in a storm (what I did yesterday) and what to do when you’re in the middle of sending out your work and you realize you absolutely hate every single word (also what I did yesterday and a common challenge I go through). I may write about each of these topics in future weeks, but when I actually sit down to write, I’m compelled to go with what’s in my gut at that very second. And right now, it’s the surprising and stunning delight of the radiant sun on the snow outside my window.

There is absolutely no landscape I like better than a snowy vista sparkling in the sun, whether I’m cozy and warm and looking out the window (as I am now) or skiing, walking or snowshoeing through winding trails with heavy snow-coated conifers, or even when I’m shoveling the driveway–as I was earlier this morning, enjoying the workout even as my partner and i struggled with our (temporarily) compromised respiratory systems to lift the heavy snow.

When it’s not sunny, snow loses most of its appeal for me. The angry sky can be evocative, but it’s also off-putting. As someone who’s sensitive to Seasonal Affective Disorder, I often feel like I’m trying to frantically gulp fleeting slivers of unsatisfying light. I did get out briefly in the storm yesterday because I knew I needed the air and to be closer to whatever diffuse light there was. It was unpleasant–though not undoable, the pellets and wind stinging our faces to the point where I had to keep my face covered head lowered to the ground.

But with sun on snow, there’s definitely a metaphor, and I’m hoping it transcends the clichéd (though useful) advice of being thankful for small things. Or the cliché of clouds having silver linings. What I think it brings me is a hopefulness, an expansiveness of possibility that I don’t sense on snowless sunny days or on cloudy snowy days. So, on this gorgeous morning, I’m determined to see my creative work in a new, sunnier light. And I’m also dedicating myself to the belief that we as a society won’t fall into the trap of villainizing propaganda and strive to embrace our commonalities rather than our otherness. I just read a very compelling post from the 50501 movement about that, and about the dangers of basking in one’s own privileged comfort–highly recommended, even though it’s sobering.

And there’s also a metaphor about making soup in a storm, though I’m not going to go down that rabbit hole right now. Other than to recommend making a big pot. That you can share with others.

Even Andre likes the sun on the snow, though he prefers to soak it up through the warm window.

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