This morning at the bus stop, I was bored and my toes were cold, so I amused myself by looking at the snowflakes falling on my outstretched hand. Which, incidentally, amused my fellow queuers, because they got to watch a woman smiling idiotically at her outstretched hand.
Amazing little things, snowflakes. That each one is unique boggles the imagination. Mine is boggling – is yours? Seriously, when you think about all the snowflakes EVER, how can this be possible? (Although according to our friend, Wikipedia, matching snow crystals were discovered in Wisconsin in 1988. How they found them, Wiki declines to tell us, but I know how resourceful those Wisconsinites can be. Or perhaps the fact that there’s a wonderful road house every 500 yards has something to do with this claim.) How can each snowflake form so perfectly and yet be so incredibly transient is also a boggler. And a reflection of many other facets of our existence, if one were to choose to wax philosophical.
I think I’ve seen some remarkably similar, but perhaps “they” are right. (Are “they” always scientists? Is there a building somewhere where “they” go to work every day, and then use minions to spread “their” well-researched factoids until said factoids become common knowledge?)
In 1885, Wilson Alwyn Bentley began his endless quest for two identical snowflakes. He photographed thousands of them with a microscope, and he, along with others through history classified and categorized them, and shared their wide variety with us and the rest of history.
Do you remember how old you were when you first saw snow? When someone told you no two snowflakes were alike? Do you remember trying to find two that were? Do you remember folding white paper and snipping it, then unfolding it to make your own remarkable snowflake, designed at random?
I saw one today that reminded me of a sheriff’s badge. And according to Google, the largest snowflake ever was 15 inches in diameter, and was seen in Montana in 1887. As brief a life as snowflakes have, I am amazed that anyone could capture and record it. I mean, how did whoever know it was going to fall? How did they measure it? In the air? After it fell on the snow? Ane what are the odds of capturing it? I’m sure there have been larger ones – just none that a human has ever caught.
I may be sounding quasi-eloquent on the amazingness of snowflakes, but those of you who read these pages often know that I am not a cold-weather girl, that I would sooner see sand than snow any day. But in the spirit of appreciating life as it is given, we must bloom or freeze where we are planted. For me, that’s here, now, among the snowflakes.

Image source: http://www.its.caltech.edu
9 comments
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February 8, 2012 at 3:49 am
TBM
I grew up in Southern California so I didn’t see snow until I was 11 or 12 when we went to my grandparents house in Utah for Thanksgiving. At first I wasn’t impressed–I was a beach kid! But after we moved to Colorado and then I moved to Massachusetts I learned to love snow. Now I cheer every time it snows…especially since I no longer have to drive in it.
February 8, 2012 at 10:09 am
Seasweetie
Ah, one of the benefits of living in London! I continue to try to make a peaceful pile out of the snow, and probably will forever. Or at least until I am in it by choice, instead of by circumstance. I loved your Cape Water Buffalo (I know it’s something like that) picture yesterday, but the site wouldn’t let me leave a comment.
February 8, 2012 at 10:32 am
TBM
Thanks. I’ve heard that from other bloggers. I don’t know what is going on.
February 8, 2012 at 11:12 am
slpmartin
I was just thinking about all those people who were in line with you and what they must have discussed with their peers when they got to work…probably missing the whole beauty of the moment. 🙂
February 8, 2012 at 11:24 am
Seasweetie
I’m sure they did. But I’ve found it more awkward sometimes when I try to share my joy about these little delights with total strangers.
February 8, 2012 at 11:30 am
marjulo
I was pleased to actually see the snowflakes individually on the windshield yesterday–not on my mittened hand–but I have always loved the idea of no two snowflakes ever being alike. I, like you, wondered about how anyone knows that. I can’t imagine anyone taking the time to find out, either! Maybe in another time and place.
As a Colorado native, I grew up with snow and love it, except in the years when I had to drive to work in it. Oh, the traffic jams! You would think we would know better as drivers… Ah, well, I can choose to cancel all appointments and sit at home now, which I have been known to do. I’m happy to be retired.
February 8, 2012 at 11:41 am
Seasweetie
That sounds SO nice, marjulo. I wonder if I will ever be retired? If so, I guarantee you that it will be on a beach, with the occasional visit to see the fluffy white stuff.
February 8, 2012 at 10:27 pm
literarychicks78
When we were children my brother and I couldn’t wait until it snowed. Snow meant sled ridding, snow forts, snowmen and snowball battles. We would play until we were soaked, go in to change and eat lunch, then hurry back out. Now I am content just to take photographs of it.
February 9, 2012 at 12:06 am
Seasweetie
I remember being that thrilled to see the snow, since we saw it so seldom. Thanks for sharing your memories, literarychick.