Further on it was all the same the same jolting and knocking, the same snow on the window, the same quick transitions from steaming heat to cold and back to heat, the same flashing of the same faces in the semi-darkness, and the same voices, and Anna began to read and understand what she was reading.įrom Italo Calvino’s If on a winter’s night a traveler: To begin with she was bothered by the bustle and movement then, when the train started moving, she could not help listening to the noises then the snow that beat against the left-hand window and stuck to the glass, and the sight of the conductor passing by, all bundled up and covered with snow on one side, and the talk about the terrible blizzard outside, distracted her attention. So, here we go: let it snow! Sit down with these delightfully icy passages, and keep the hot cocoa coming.Īt first she was unable to read. Perhaps now I will think of it as one of these instead of being irrationally irritated by Mother Nature’s cruel attempts to curb my snacking and my social life. In an attempt to reframe the cold months ahead for myself, I have assembled some of the most beautiful/relatable descriptions of snow I could find in fiction.
Personally, I think I like winter weather best when it’s on the page and not the thing standing between me and the closest bar or the corner bodega when I’m out of popcorn.
Oh, the weather outside is frightful! But the reading is so delightful… Weather (sorry) or not you love the snow-blanketing your driveway, stalling your subway lines-it’s hard to deny that there have been some pretty darn good descriptions of it in literature, the kind that make you want to curl up by the fire (or, in my case, the space heater).