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“Snow falls. On my forehead and cheeks. On my upper lip, the groove above it. It is not cold. It is only as heavy as feathers, as the finest tip of a paintbrush. Has my skin frozen over? Is my face covered in snow as it would be if I were dead? But my eyelids must not have grown cold. Only the snowflakes clinging to them are. They melt into cold droplets of water and seep into my eyes.”
― We Do Not Part
― We Do Not Part
“The single flake that settled and melted over my glove just now was as close to a pristine six-armed snow crystal as one is likely to find. The one that settles next to it is partly crumbled, but the remaining four branches retain their delicate shape. These soft, deteriorating dendrites are the first to melt away. The tiny white center, the part that resembles a grain of salt, lingers for a breath before dissolving.”
― We Do Not Part
― We Do Not Part
“The subtropical trees, weighed down with huge crimson blossoms, are swaying fiercely. The only reason not a dusting of snow has settled on the flowers in this strong storm is because of the overpowering wind. The movement of the palm trees, fronds swinging like so many long arms, seems even more violent. The glossy leaves, the flower stalks, the laden branches on every tree are flailing wildly, each like a separate entity trying to rid itself of the heavy snow.”
― We Do Not Part
― We Do Not Part
“I remember the images of snow crystals that accompanied these explanations. The book was bound with thin interleaving sheets of glassine to protect the color plates. I had turned the translucent paper to find a page filled with variously shaped snow crystals. Their intricacy overwhelmed me. Some of the crystals had smooth hexagonal columns instead of symmetrical plates, and the tiny captions beneath explained that, on the boundary of snow and rain, snowflakes took these elongated forms. For weeks and months afterward, I had pictured those delicate, silvery columns whenever I saw sleet. On days of heavy snowfall, I used to extend my coat sleeve to watch the flakes settle on the fluff on its dark fabric and dissolve. It made me dizzy to consider the innumerable combinations of coruscating hexagonal crystals like the ones I’d seen in the book that made up each grain of snow. For days after, I had woken from sleep and, while my eyes remained closed, imagined it was still snowing outside. I had seen snow drift down around me indoors while I lay sprawled on the floor, working on some tedious holiday assignment. Flakes landing on my hand, from which I’d just removed a hangnail. Flakes landing on the loose hairs and eraser dust strewn across the floor.”
― We Do Not Part
― We Do Not Part
Diane’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Diane’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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