Creation of Clay

The flakes melt as soon as they meet the ground, abandoning their once unique form, transforming into what they were from the beginning.

It is a mesmerizing sight, how this white force of nature trembles face to face with the warmth the sun has left behind. Soon the sun won’t be strong enough anymore, soon the snow will win, and cover every inch of earth it can find, covering the world in a blanket of whiteness. The enchantment will make everything calm down, hide every last eyesore, will make the world beautiful once again.

It is fascinating how something that would normally be called rain can do that. People would moan it under other circumstances, would complain about the wetness that they should be used to by now.

But when it is white, when it sways to earth like a child at their first dance, then it is welcome, called a wonder, looked at with eyes that remind of long lost innocence.

The transformation is soon complete, when everything is covered, the crunching of boots meeting the new material on the ground, never really meeting the ground, leaving prints that anyone could follow.

People aren’t distinguishable anymore covered in scarves that protect their faces, hats pulled down, and coats drawn tight. Their footprints are surprisingly unique in contrast. You can see which foot they favour, which imprint is deeper, which shoe’s engravings are more worn down. You can see if they favour their heels or the balls of their feet. You can see how long their strides are and how close they come to the obstacles in their way.

In the snow you can see a different world. Everything is covered, and still it sometimes shows more than you would have seen otherwise.

The people the snow meets on his way to the ground are all the same to it, all meaning a transformation into liquid, too warm to cling to, the ones that are cold enough for the snow to persist, aren’t moving anymore. They melt with the ground, made calmer and less tragic by the snow.

The snow can hide a lot, its transforming quality only temporary. And like all masks that try to hide the world’s ugliness for a moment, it doesn’t improve the things that are left behind after it is taken down. The disguise made the trash pile up, unseen by people who could have cared.

Snow is like everything only a temporary enchantment.

In the end nothing that transforms the world so quickly can ever be truly lasting.

Mother Hulda – Frau Holle