I 116 J 



ARCHITECTURE OF THE SNOW 



December 25, 1851. A wind is now blowing the 

 light snow into drifts, especially on the lee, now the 

 south, side of the walls, the outlines of the drifts 

 corresponding to the chinks in the walls and the 

 eddies of the wind. The snow glides, unperceived 

 for the most part, over the open fields until it reaches 

 an opposite wall, which it sifts through and is blown 

 over, blowing oflf from it like steam when seen in the 

 sun. As it passes through the chinks, it does not 

 drive straight onward, but curves gracefully upwards 

 into fantastic shapes, somewhat like the waves 

 which curve as they break upon the shore; that is, 

 as if the snow that passes through a chink were one 

 connected body, detained by the friction of its lower 

 side. It takes the form of saddles and shells and 

 porringers. It builds up a fantastic alabaster wall be- 

 hind the first, — a snowy sierra. Astonishingly sharp 

 and thin overhanging eaves it builds, even this dry 

 snow, where it has the least suggestion from a wall 

 or bank, — less than a mason ever springs his brick 

 from. This is the architecture of the snow. 



Journal, iii, 154. 



