“They say that every snowflake is different. If that were true, how could the world go on? How could we ever get up off our knees? How could we ever recover from the wonder of it?” Jeanette Winterson

I don't try to pretend that every emotion I feel is unique.  Or that each time I hurt, or laugh, or fly with happiness, that no one else has felt the same, or greater than me, whether now, or in the past, or in the future.  I wouldn't be so immodest to believe that my heart is any different than anyone elses.

We can't measure love, except by our own experience.  One is not greater than another, every love you have is a snowflake, as near to unique as ever could be comprehended, and in fact - can never be explained.  Why two people should feel a connection is beyond me.  It's (as I have said before) a question of chemistry. 

But the difference of each of them is very important.  You can appreciate the differences as well as the similarities.  One person is uniquely different to another, and so they don't need your love in the same way.  They may not even need your love.  They may want it, in spite of being strong and independent.  You may want to give it, without any reaction from them - although this plant will eventually wither and die, unless something keeps it fed and watered.  And right now my plants have overdosed on Baby Bio.

I have had a splendid few weeks.  No time to write, and it has bottled up a little, into a story that yearns to be told.  It is a story of friends and fun and love and happiness.  A few weeks with rare interjections from the bad side of the world - and I have relished each moment as it comes.  A story of new beginnings, and rekindlings of old.  A story of ongoing flares, bubbling into the night sky.  A tale of gentle thoughts and simple pleasures.

And yet I cannot tell it.  The story burns inside, but the logic of all around me prevents it's freedom.  And that's as it should be.  If no snowflake is unique, then I am not unique in keeping my stories untold.  One day maybe, I will make a study of my snowflakes; if I thought anyone would be interested....

“Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.” Anon

But the story of the last few weeks is one of hard work for more than one.  I suspect that others have not shared my pleasure.  Has it changed me?  Has it changed them?  The Doubt always creeps in, and makes me ashamed of the happiness I have felt.  Oh, why do I deserve that happiness?  Have I been overly indulgent?

Of course I have.

Can I make amends?  Maybe.

That seems to be my word of the day... maybe.
Each snowflake may bump into another and flutter gently down with them for a short time, even resting with them on a branch before moving on.  They can entwine their crystal fronds and become bigger and better than ever before.  And as each one progresses, they influence the path of others, either joining with them for a short while, or forever.  Learning from that experience.  Sometimes moving on harmlessly, sometimes having to disentangle, and sometimes forced to break the bindings to separate.  But never quite losing the memory, and always growing from the other's uniqueness.

My snowflake is fluttering lightly, and is buoyant, supported by some wonderous alternate branches.  I know that it will not last for ever; but appreciate my chances to touch the uniqueness of my fellow ice scrolls, and perhaps become a better person; before I sink under the wonder of my good fortune to know them.

Vermont farmer Wilson A. Bentley (1865 - 1931) was the first person to capture a single snowflake on camera.  He was later known as Snowflake Bentley for his pioneering 19th-century photography of more than 5,000 jewel-like snowflakes — no two alike.