“How full of creative genius is the air in which these are generated!
I should hardly admire more if real stars fell and lodged on my coat.”
While falling through the clouds, a small ice crystal found itself in the middle regions of a branching matrix of points. Reaching outwards, feeling for changes in the air's humidity and temperature, the crystal formed itself into a six-fold stellar dendrite, and promptly landed on the shaggy white fur of a dog named Tutis.
A young girl enters the scene, underdressed for the occasion but too absorbed in her explorations. She is bent over, examining the ground before reaching up to the sky to snatch at the snow. Searching for clues, the mystery being the nature of life up in the clouds.
I imagine myself rising up through a swirling mass of flakes, their differing trajectories confuse my eyes as I focus on the middle distance. Up up up, till I reach the source, the origins of snow. Snow particles are being formed in a complex process of many stages. I imagine observing this everyday miracle, and I cannot help but feel that it is a kind of magic; one that is utterly explainable, but no less magical.
