the longest days

January may well be the longest month of the year, and here, drowning in winter, I can only hope for a decent snowfall. If only the town was my snow globe- I could shake it and swirl it around, and even though it may only be a dusting, it could continually fall. Many of those who inhabit these northern climates would despise me for such sentiments, but they would also yearn for a "White Christmas," perhaps an insight to their superficial nature. Many people can only see the imposition such a precipitation would cause, as an unwelcome guest on their doorstep, they must rearrange their entire schedule accordingly. If only they could enjoy the fluffiness wafting, or blowing, or drifting as I do, as a child might. I say this only because I am unsure of how a child thinks, though I would often compare my thinking as such, but infused, in a manner of speaking, with the knowledge of men. But, as a matter of hope, daylight is growing each day, and I am hopeful, too, that the fondness of men may do the same.