Whirling Dervishes

I glanced up early yesterday morning to behold a world of swirling snow, drifting swiftly down over the rooftops of downtown Moscow. From my vantage point three stories up, my usual view across town had become an opaque dance of wind currents laden with armfuls of snowflakes. This, fortunately, was not the slow fall of snow that means to stay. This was the sort that falls quickly, dashing toward earth in a rush in order to melt on warmer pavement and roof. And so it is gone.
It's curious, but most of us love snow because is transforms the world around us. Generally speaking, nature is beautiful, but douse it with a light dusting of snow, and it transforms into a fairyland. Same with moonlight. Sunlight can reveal beauty and transform a scene, but it is limited when compared with a wintery snowfall. Perhaps in heaven light will reveal beauty in the same way that snow, covering up and hiding, can do now. We won't rave about moonlight and snow and the way it covers up the dirt and grime. We will see, really see, deeper and further in, in a light that will make all sunny days like the barest glimmer of dawn. I wonder.