As I write this, the weather forecast remains iffy for getting any substantial snowfall by Christmas Day here in the Glens Falls area. Many of us will continue to check The Weather Channel and its companion website, www.weather.com, in hopes that Saint Nicholas is will bring a load of North Pole snow in his sleigh Friday night. Even an inch or so of snow from his Lake Placid branch would be fine with me.

I don�t know why having a white Christmas should concern us so much, but it does. Bells on bobtails and the roasting of chestnuts in a winter wonderland are still such vivid images for us, even though they are as nostalgic and bygone as Good King Wenceslas, the burning of the Yule log and eight maids a-milking.

While snow isn�t mentioned in the original Christmas tale, many of our holiday stories, traditions and family histories come from places where Christmas--arbitrarily placed in late December 25--means winter weather. Even transplants to warmer climes who gloat about not owning a shovel admit to yearning for a dusting on Christmas Eve to add the right touch to the holiday.

There are a few reasons why the desire for snow is so strong this time of year, even for those of us who don�t snowboard, snowshoe, ski or skate.

First, snow comes to earth to blanket us in its white purity. Everything which was brown, dry and withered is transformed. The landscape is re-created in new outlines, shapes and forms. Snow doesn�t make things invisible; it just gives us a new and different way to look at them.

Similarly, the Christmas season allows us to see others in ways which may escape us the rest of the year. For instance, my family annually helps the Salvation Army�s bell ringing efforts. We�re there for just one hour, but in that time it�s remarkable to interact with the wide variety of people who drop coins into the kettle. It would probably surprise parents (and others in our community) to know how many teens in floppy jeans or chains and pseudo leather gave their change to help others. I know it surprised me.

The beauty of falling snow is hard to match. Nearly everyone, young or old, will catch themselves marveling at the first gentle snowfalls of the season. The soft drifting of those unique and distinct ice crystal formations is enchanting and hypnotizing. I especially love the days when it snows and snows, with no end in sight. Buckets and barrels. If you look straight up in the sky on those days, the white flecks seem to go on forever into the heavens.

Most of us have never seen snowflakes long enough to prove the theory that no two are alike, but we are eager to believe it. The endless variety of snowflakes parallels the endless variety of humans. It reminds us that we are all unique and individual and special. Like snowflakes, we all move at different rates and follow different paths, but we�re ultimately going in the same direction through life.

There is, unfortunately, an ugly side of winter. Sometimes a bitter wind and blowing snow isolates and separates us from each other. On those days we can feel some of the forlorn loneliness that the holy family experienced in the crowded streets of Bethlehem. The frigid cold keeps us inside and hibernating, unwilling to reach out to others. Anyone forced off the road and rescued in a blinding blizzard knows how humbling yet comforting it can be to receive such help from strangers. Humbling to realize we are not in control; reassuring to know that our litigious, cynical society hasn�t destroyed the spirit of would-be Good Samaritans.

Dear Santa: Please bring some Christmas snow. We�ll still enjoy the holiday with our loved ones and friends without it, but why not throw some in for old times� sake?