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Memories of North Tonawanda Snow - Little Observationist
It’s February and I walked by a blooming camelia bush yesterday, the soft pink petals weighted down with drops of morning rain. In London, it’s 8C / 48F and wet, nearly spring. In North Tonawanda, New York, where I grew up, it’s -7C / 20F, cold and still in the depths of winter for a few more months. An early spring is nice, but I miss waking up to the windows frosted over. I miss the sight of drooping tree branches, heavy with a thick coat of snow. And I miss trudging along the sidewalks, leaving a trail of footprints six inches deep. Japanese fashion designer Novala Takemoto said, “Snow falling soundlessly in the middle of the night will always fill my heart with sweet clarity.” It’s like that for me; snow falling in silence inspires me. It muffles the sounds of car tires, barking dogs and sirens. Only the scrape, scrape, scrape of shovels on concrete and snowblower motors can be heard. There is nothing more. Despite the physical temperature, it brings with it warmth and cosiness: thoughts of fireplaces, long hours buried in good books or laughing in the company of life-long friends over mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows. …