As we were driving through the falling snow Saturday, I was fascinated by the snow. Coming from a sunny area, I haven't had a chance to observe this phenomenon in detail. You see, the snow doesn't fall down, or left, or right like you'd expect it to.
No, it hurls itself bodily at the car, intent upon dashing itself to pieces on the windshield. Moments before it collides head-on with the fast-moving windshield, the wind currents snatch it from the jaws of death and sweep it up and over the car.
Protected from the danger of being crushed against the windshield, the snow flew onward, no doubt to test its luck against the next car, and I realized that this reckless abandonment to fate was part of what James A. Owen was talking about.
No, it hurls itself bodily at the car, intent upon dashing itself to pieces on the windshield. Moments before it collides head-on with the fast-moving windshield, the wind currents snatch it from the jaws of death and sweep it up and over the car.
Protected from the danger of being crushed against the windshield, the snow flew onward, no doubt to test its luck against the next car, and I realized that this reckless abandonment to fate was part of what James A. Owen was talking about.