January 23

Today is a perfect example of yesterday’s empiricism. This morning was just below zero, again with a light breeze that made the wind chill certainly bitter. There was also a gentle snowfall, with strangely large flakes that I normally associate with wetter snows.

Standing just outside my garage, I watched the snow drift downward and occasionally settle on my dark jacket, each flake so large that it was easy to distinguish the individual patterns. Under more temperate mornings, those flakes are ephemeral, with enough residual heat on the jacket to melt the patterns before they can be clearly seen.

I stood for a while and looked as closely as I could.

Truly beautiful things up close, and they do seem to be unique to one another, built on a general rule of having six sides. Some were greatly branched and intricate beyond imagination, while others were so simplistic they reminded me of the child’s craft of folding paper and using scissors to create a simple flake. I couldn’t resist using my breath to watch them fade away, the solid molecules picking up enough energy to liquefy – the outer points first giving way, followed by the center hubs.

It is overwhelming to look at the snow pack in our yard, now just at seven inches deep or thereabouts. All those snowflakes, one upon another, pattern after pattern, seemingly endless forms of creation that serve no purpose of which I am aware. Eventually, they will all yield to the coming warmth, returning to the ground or to the air.