― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
Snow changes our whole perspective on the world. Whether it suddenly makes your everyday surroundings more hazardous or turns them into a fairyland all depends on your point of view, but a light coating of frozen water drops has the power to transform everything.
For a three year old, the power is purely a benificent transformation, until Mom says it's time to come inside because it's too cold. But snow is an edible miracle for Maeve, she wants to sit in it, throw it, make people out of it, and eat it all at the same time. It's like the inside of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory to her, a land where all the toys are edible.
It also awakens something spiritual or awe-related for her, I can tell. She gets like I do, calm and breathless at the same time, eyes wide open to the hidden possibilities of the world.
Despite not enjoying the cold myself, and not having a nice snow suit like she does to romp around in, I try to get the child outside at least once a day when it's snowy. Maybe just because I love to see the look on her face.