10 GROUNDCOVER NEWS LIVING ARCHIVE NOVEMBER 28, 2025 Reflecting on the first snow When the snow falls REV. MARTHA BRUNELL Groundcover contributor The first snow falls, not so silently. Large, wet flakes crackle through withered leaves clinging to the linden’s branches. They encase hollow milkweed pods below. Or they fall with little ceremony or grace in splotches on the empty deck. When the splotches blur into one another, they provide evidence of where I have walked out to greet this snow’s appearance. The first snow tends to surprise even if the weather reporter proclaimed with certainty it was coming. It rarely arrives on the day appointed for winter’s beginning, exhibiting little need to honor the calendar’s numbering of days. Snow accumulates, and I mount a search for my mitten’s missing mate. The shortening of daylight is evident. Time marches on, past those who dread the dawning season and those who welcome it. A fresh start is thrilling. This one, however, harbors the creeping fear of unknown days and nights ahead that may have to be crossed on wet roads quickly turned into slippery ice by the bite of a prairie wind. When I was young and very resilient in the winter, I worked with elders in Boston for whom the first snow signaled the long season inside when they were held virtually captive in their small living spaces, unable to navigate the sidewalks their absentee landlords rarely cleared of snow. We labor in the winter from inside to outside and back in again as we don and shed all those layers. Winter’s weeks harbor memories of a successful neighborhood effort to engineer a childhood igloo and fast sled rides down any number of hills. Snow shrouding the nighttime streets of cities I have lived in has often softened sharp urban edges, suggesting an aesthetic unity in marked contrast to the conflicts of the day. In the early weeks of winter decades ago, I waited for the birth of both my daughters. I relive the joy of that waiting to this day. Now my older daughter is married to Carmelo, whose first country was Nicaragua. He is still in disbelief that winter is necessary. Where I currently live, winter’s frozen fog ushers in a magical land that sparkles and shimmers. Winter draws from us ambivalence. There are the comforting smells of homemade soup, balsam and baking spices alongside the persistence of inadequate shelter for those who are without. There can be a stillness that counterbalances our hurried lives and an unrelenting grayness that starves our spirits. Some neighbors have the means to escape winter’s reign if they choose; others hunker in to survive its duration. Winter reminds us of limits we are wise to honor. We both struggle with and rejoice in the cancellations it brings. Winter is crossing the year’s threshold again, ready or not. It invites us to be more aware of the struggles of those whose vulnerability increases in the dark and cold and of how we might respond effectively with compassion. This season urges us not to forget that growth is going on, even far beneath the surface where all appears dead and gone. Perhaps, this year, together, we can increase our capacity to thrive through the challenges hinted at once more with the first snow falling. Rev. Martha Brunell was the pastor at Bethlehem United Church of Christ during the early years of Groundcover News. She was a community advocate for the paper and frequent, beloved contributor of essays. LA SHAWN COURTWRIGHT Groundcover vendor No. 56 Chills of wonder spread all over me I mean the idea of sliding down a hill on my sled A ride on my ATV, snow board, or my snowmobile Maybe even build a snow woman or snowman that looks and dresses like me Or have a snowball battle with my frenemies When the snow falls I wanna get out my snow blower So I can move the snow over from in front of my garage and house entry and exit doors I've got to clear the sidewalks too So that my children can make it to the bus stop for school When the snow falls It's cool to just look out of my window and watch it come down at whatever rate it may fall When the snow falls A warm snuggle will definitely do!! Most of all When the snow falls I just want to be with you!! - Originally published in the December 2017 edition of Groundcover News.
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