Here I come! Floating down aimlessly. You think I’m a white blob because I’m touching other water crystals. Light reflects off us to make you think that. But we are all transparent, and all unique!
It’s a miracle enough that we have formed this far south. The right combination of bitter cold and water vapour is rare. Rare, but not unknown. And you like that don’t you? The novelty of snow! It’s so pretty. The signs were there last night…in the darkness… in the swirl of the cloud. Then the temperature plunged. It was very exciting when the happy bundle of H2O molecules that is ME realised that I wasn’t going to be boring old rain! Not this time, anyway.
I didn’t like the feeling of becoming snow though – clinging to a tiny particle whipped by the wind into the sky, feeling myself seizing into a solid. One moment I was fluid and flexible, and then a cruel cramp seized me. I silently screamed with the pain. The spasms came again and again, until I was heavy enough to fall. As I fell, my shape shifted. I was acquiring a new fluffy coat of molecules. Six patterned limbs, a pattern different from any other of my billions of fellow snowflakes tumbling down. Did I mention that I am unique?
Now I’m snuggled up – a tiny, fragile snowflake in a snow blanket on your lawn. I watch as your lovely garden is enveloped. The tree branches are drooping. The borders and lawn have merged. The house seems to be groaning with the weight of white stuff. I’m happy to have landed here. The dense grass is frozen. Thank goodness, because otherwise I might melt, and I’d really like to be unique for a little while longer before I seep into your well-fed soil. It’s interesting here. I would hate to be a snowflake in a polar region. I might live long, but all I would see would be endless miles of other snowflakes. It must be difficult to feel unique, even if you know that you are unique, when there are just so many zillions of others around, and no sentient beings to notice your uniqueness.
Now something’s happening. You and yours have tumbled out of the house, squealing and scooping up snow. Even better, you are starting to roll the snow blanket into a big ball. I know what this means. I do hope that the goddess of snowflakes will let me end up on the outside of the big blob, and near the top. Maybe I could be just above the orange thing, or the long, flappy thing. I should be so proud to be part of a human homage to snow. I’m unique, of course, but that would make me unique and special.
My prayer has been heard, and I am sitting right on the top of the decorated lump of snow. I’m packed tight with a lot of other snowflakes, which is uncomfortable, but it means we will last longer. As the ground snow melts, I can still see your cosy garden and pretty house. Eventually, I will uncramp, flow down, and seep into your soil, releasing its goodness to the roots of your grass for it to grow lush in Spring. But hopefully the frost will grip tonight and that fate can be delayed. For now…did I mention it…? I am unique!
Photo by Kaye Schreyer.
