Snow-covered tree.

A snow-covered tree branch sticks out over downtown Calgary, November 2013.

When the snow starts flying in fall, it’s the most beautiful. The light outside turns silver. Not that thin autumn sunshine or grey-tinged gloominess. The air surrounding Calgary turns moist for a few hours and chases the dryness away.

Everything becomes quiet. People scurry inside to get away from the snowflakes falling from the sky. Pets aren’t walked. Vehicles are parked and left until the next day.

Street signs and grassy bits collect the snow at the beginning. Then the roads and sidewalks get a coating of the plush frozen carpet. In Calgary not much accumulates with the first dump but in the Maritimes – the beginning of snowfall means a heavy one and is as normal as the sun rising. I remember those storms of my childhood.

A Maritime snowstorm also has snow and wind. Terrible wind. Gusting here and there and everywhere. Leaving the snow in high impassable drifts in the middle of roads and causing white-outs so bad you’d think you were stuck in a cloud.

When inside the haven of home, comfy and cozy by a wood stove, you can hear the wind blasting at the door. Trying to get in. It strikes at the windows too and wants to push them open. And then take its cold hands and grab you by the throat so you can’t breathe.

The snow and wind sometimes fight each other. Which is stronger? The snow, with its hardened, chill-to-the-bone ice flakes, keeps coming steadily. Hoping to outlast the wind. Hoping to exhaust the wind. But the wind, the wind keeps at the snow. Pushing it around. Toying with it. Sending it here and there and everywhere. Hoping to force it to a standstill. Hoping to batter it into submission.

Falling snow.

Snow falls swiftly and heavily in Nova Scotia and it’s (almost) always accompanied by a wind.

The wind and snow don’t realize they’re a force of nature if they work together. Thick tree branches break and fall to earth. Because of the wind? Because of the snow piled on them? Because of their combined strength. Instead of acknowledging this, they continue to wage war against each other.

Eventually, one or the other (or both) decides that’s that. That’s enough. They’re not putting any more energy into the battle. The snow slows. Then stops. The wind lessens its grip on the earth. Then floats away. Who won? In the end, I don’t know.