They fall in myriad ways, from straight down to sideways to swept by the wind into drifts. Composed of anywhere from two to two hundred separate crystals, each encases a particle of dirt carried into the atmosphere. They assume different shapes, the simplest being a long needle-like spike, and most have six sides that range in shape from flat plates to star points.
As tiny and delicate as they are, they have the capacity to block doorways, bury vehicles, and slow life as we know it to a crawl. They are shoveled, blown, plowed into mounds and cursed at. But no matter how often I see them fall, it is always a magical moment.
Individually, snowflakes are nature’s most ephemeral creation, here one minute, gone the next, their intricacies lost the moment they alight upon bare ground. But in numbers, cascading from the frigid upper atmosphere and landing onto hard frozen ground, they become a formidable force that puts a hold on our plans and stops us, literally, in our tracks.
It’s never easy to get a close look at one, brief as its existence is. One must resort to an account compiled by someone who has taken the time to study these tiny wonders and that affords us a glimpse of what we don’t see as we creep home, gripping the steering wheel for dear life.
That no two are alike is putting it mildly, for snowflakes are classified, not only according to their configuration but also as to what meteorological forces were at work at the time of their conception. They assume the shapes of stars, columns, needles, rosettes, and prisms; and snowflakes that grow branches are called dendrites, which means “tree-like,” according to Ken Libbrecht’s “Field Guide to Snowflakes.” Of the 35 types that Libbrecht has researched, however, most snowflakes are irregular crystals that assume no definitive shape or symmetry.
The large familiar snowflakes we sometimes see are the fernlike stellar dendrites, which despite their size, and amazingly so, are composed of a single ice crystal whose molecules have assumed this intricate shape. And those tiny threadlike snowflakes that we see on a coat sleeve are simple needles that formed at a temperature of around 23 degrees F. As for the best snow powder to ski on, nothing beats a heavy deposit of stellar dendrites, light, very thin crystals that are also a joy to shovel and that are the type of snowflake most often associated with holiday decorations.
What worlds exist within the one we call our own, cycles of life, death and eternal rebirth that so many of us miss in the rush of our daily lives. And what are we to make of the forces that compel the molecules of a single ice crystal to assume a shape impossible to replicate by the human hand? Within each sphere of life, too, are similarities. Trees, rivers, savings banks and snowflakes all have branches, while the sugar and salt on our tables are composed of crystals. A single particle of dust blown by the wind into the frigid upper reaches of the atmosphere returns to earth encased in a prism, where, joined by billions of others, they take charge and whiten our world.
How else to describe it but magical?
— Rachel Lovejoy is a freelance writer living in Lyman. She can be reached via e-mail at rlovejoy84253@roadrunner.com.
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