An extended entry on the first snowfall of the season. We’ll stick around here for a while, extracting a number of smaller entries from it. First Snow, part one.
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This is my first snow at Smith. It is like any other snow, but from a different window, and there lies the singular charm of it. Downstairs someone just exclaimed, “Oh, look at it!” But I have been looking for quite some time now, ever since the first scatter-brained flakes began to circle down in aimless little swoops and spins. All I need to hear is sleighbells and the sound of “Silent Night” in the distance. Yes, it is like any snow, in any year, and although I have a Botany exam in two hours, I must stop a little and look. The flakes are big and loosely put together, and the blue and red rooftops are muted and secretive. Girls bicycle by in brief spurts of color and motion...
-- Sylvia Plath, The Journals 1950