— J.
Three months from now, when you are stuck in traffic in a humid April rain, you will close your eyes for half a second. You will remember the sound of nothing. You will remember the weight of a silent sky. snowfur tm
Stay warm. Stay soft.
This is the other snow.
And you will whisper to yourself: That was a Snowfur™ day. We spend so much of winter cursing the cold. We shovel. We salt. We scrape ice off windshields with credit cards. We treat snow as an inconvenience, a delay, a disaster. You will remember the weight of a silent sky
There is a specific kind of snow that falls only a few times in a lifetime. It isn’t the frantic, sideways sleet that stings your cheeks. It isn’t the wet, heavy slush that soaks through your boots before you reach the mailbox. This is the other snow
