Snow as a Recurring Symbol in Blood Like Mine
The Literal Presence of Snow
Snow is the near-constant backdrop of Blood Like Mine. It first appears in Chapter 1 as flakes settle on the windshield of Rebecca Carter’s van while she flees through the mountains of Colorado. A drifting elk, also dusted with snow, forces the van into a snowdrift—a moment that strands Rebecca and Moonflower and exposes them to a passing stranger. From that opening scene through the final forest chase, snow falls, drifts, covers roads, and muffles sound in almost every major encounter.
The characters are always aware of it. In Chapter 5, Johnny Colfax leads FBI agent Marc Donner through snow-covered terrain to the body of a murdered sex offender, the corpse hidden beneath a layer of white. In Chapter 20, the Flagstaff Mall parking lot is coated in “thick snowfall” as the FBI watches Rebecca’s van speed away, its wheels spinning on slush. And in the climactic sequence of Chapters 22–24, the clearing where Moonflower feeds becomes a stage of red-stained snow, floodlit by police flashlights.
Snow is not a one-time motif; it is the dominant weather of the entire story, present in every season of the plot (Christmas Eve, the days around it, and the memory of earlier flights).
The Shifting Meaning of Snow
“Snow” carries different implications at different points in the narrative. Crucially, the meaning is never static.
Concealment
The most straightforward symbolic use of snow is as a blanket that hides evidence, tracks, and bodies. The murdered man in Chapter 5 is dumped in the foothills precisely because “they reckoned he wouldn’t be found till the thaw” (Chapter 2). The snow preserves the corpse but also obscures it from casual discovery. Later, when Moonflower runs through the forest in Chapter 24, the falling snow quickly covers her footprints; at the small airport in Chapter 27, tire tracks are “already losing to the snowfall.” This concealment is crucial for a family constantly on the run. Yet the very snow that hides them also betrays them: in Chapter 5, Johnny Colfax finds the body only because his dog sniffs it out from under branches and white cover—the body is hidden by snow but also found because of snow (the dog digging at something in the snow). The symbolism thus contains a built-in paradox: concealment is never absolute.
Danger and Vulnerability
From the first page, snow is a physical threat. The van gets stuck in a snowdrift; Rebecca struggles to reverse it free while a stranger watches. In Chapter 22, Rebecca vomits “coffee and bile into the redstained snow” after cutting the spinal cord of a dead predator, and the snow itself becomes stained with blood—a vivid contrast of white purity and red violence. Later, during the FBI chase in Chapter 20, the van fishtails on slush, nearly losing control. Snow makes every movement treacherous, just as the fugitive life itself is precarious.
The cold also represents emotional numbness and the isolation of the mother-daughter pair. Rebecca in Chapter 22 catches snowflakes on her tongue and remembers her Wisconsin childhood, longing for warmth that will never come: “she would never have that, she knew, and a selfish part of her resented it.” The snow’s coldness mirrors the impossibility of a normal life. For Moonflower, running barefoot through snow in Chapter 27, the cold does not hurt her because of her unnatural physiology—she is not tired, her feet do not hurt—marking her as something apart from human.
Coldness of Life on the Run
Beyond literal temperature, snow symbolizes the emotional chill of a existence without stability, without home. Rebecca’s memory of her mother’s greenhouse in Wisconsin, of moonflower blossoms “blooming at night, pale white faces in the darkness,” is a lost warmth. The snow that falls on the windshield in Chapter 1 is a constant reminder of the distance from that past. In Chapter 31, after stealing a police SUV, Rebecca drives “through snow-covered mountain roads” with no destination, mourning the loss of her van and her journals—the cold is both external and internal. Even the letters Rebecca writes to her daughter are preserved (or lost) in snow‑bound vehicles.
In the final chapters, snow takes on a more ambiguous quality. Donner, after being shot, has a vision of his wife and daughters laughing by a Christmas tree—a warm domestic scene contrasted with the cold clearing where he lies dying. Moonflower, after her mother’s death, escapes into the night, howling with dogs, the snow once again offering a dark cover.
Connections to Characters and Themes
Rebecca Carter
Rebecca is the one who feels the cold most acutely. She catches snowflakes on her tongue as a “childish desire,” a fleeting moment of escape from the horror of watching her daughter feed. The snow becomes a temporary solace, a link to her lost childhood. Yet it also represents the hopelessness of her mission: “she would never have that, she knew.” In Chapter 22, after severing the spinal cord, she vomits into the snow, tainting it with her own guilt. Snow is where she performs the dirty work of keeping Moonflower alive.
Moonflower (Monica)
For Moonflower, snow is both a friend and an obstacle. She runs through it effortlessly, using its darkness to hide from pursuers. In Chapter 24, “low hanging branches whipped at her face and chest. She didn’t care. Her feet glided over the snowbound roots”—the snow does not slow her. In her dream in Chapter 33 of running with wild dogs, the vision is of “freedom and predation” set in a snowy landscape. Yet snow also signifies the separation from humanity: she can take the cold, but she cannot feel safe touching others without risk.
Marc Donner
For the FBI agent, snow is an impediment to his pursuit. He slips on “snowbound roots,” his toes ache with cold, and he curses his insufficient footwear. Snow is the medium that hides his quarry: marks on the road are lost, tire tracks fade. In Chapter 5, Donner listens to Colfax describe the snow‑covered terrain and the woman’s stuck van, and the snow becomes the link that brings him closer to Rebecca.
Key Themes
- Maternal Sacrifice and Protection: Rebecca endures the cold, vomits in the snow, and risks capture in snow‑covered forests to protect her daughter. The snow is the stage for her sacrifice.
- Predator and Prey Reversal: The snow hides both the predator (the men who prey on vulnerable girls) and the vigilante mother. In Chapter 22, the police burst from the snow, reversing who is hunter.
- Monstrosity and Humanity: The snow’s coldness mirrors the inhuman hunger Moonflower must satisfy. Yet Rebecca’s memory of her mother’s flowers—blooming “pale white faces in the darkness”—ties the white snow to human love.
- Consequences of Violence: Red blood on white snow, described in detail, forces the reader to see the aftermath of killing.
- Isolation and Flight: Every snow‑covered road leads away from civilization. The family exists in a cold, isolated pocket.
Significance of a Key Snow Scene
The most concentrated symbolic moment comes in Chapter 22, where Rebecca watches Moonflower feed, then walks a circle catching snowflakes on her tongue. The text emphasizes that the snow is “so cold they burned.” Rebecca recalls her girlhood in Madison, winters that “seemed to last forever,” and her dream of moving somewhere warm. Now she is trapped in an eternal winter of her own making. The snow is a reminder of what she has lost and a mask for what she has become. When she vomits and the snow turns “redstained,” the color contrast graphically illustrates how her life has been corrupted.
Later, in Chapter 27, Moonflower feels “the thread” pulling her toward the city, and she moves “quiet as the falling snow” to rescue her mother. The simile links her to the element, making her part of the environment—she is as silent, as pervasive, as cold as the flakes themselves.
Study Questions
1. In Chapter 22, Rebecca catches snowflakes on her tongue. What does this action reveal about her state of mind, and how does it connect to the theme of maternal sacrifice?
Answer: The childish act of catching snowflakes is a momentary regression to a time before her life became a nightmare. It reveals her longing for warmth, safety, and the lost connection to her own mother. This tiny, private pleasure is quickly interrupted by the need to clean up after Moonflower’s feeding—severing the spinal cord, vomiting—showing how even a second of self‑indulgence is offset by the demands of maternal duty. The snowflake is both a memory of innocence and a reminder that innocence is gone.
2. In the opening of the book, snow initially helps Rebecca hide (the elk accident, the stuck van), but later snow helps the FBI track her (tire marks in the slush). How does the symbolic meaning of concealment shift across the narrative?
Answer: Early snow genuinely conceals: Rebecca can hide Moonflower in the van, and later a body is buried in the snow. But by Chapter 5, snow also reveals—the dog sniffs out the body under the snow, and Johnny Colfax’s footprints lead Donner to the key detail about the woman with a stuck van. In the Flagstaff chase, the van’s tires leave clear marks on slush. Snow is a double‑edged symbol: it hides evidence from one angle yet exposes it from another, mirroring the family’s gradual loss of secrecy.
3. Moonflower’s attitude toward snow is different from Rebecca’s. Cite at least one example and explain what this difference tells us about her nature.
Answer: In Chapter 24, Moonflower runs through the forest and “her feet glided over the snowbound roots” without pain; in Chapter 27, after hours of walking, “her feet did not hurt, she was not tired.” Rebecca, by contrast, shivers and vomits from cold. This difference emphasizes Moonflower’s preternatural biology—she is not entirely human. Snow is an element she moves through without suffering, which sets her apart from normal vulnerability and hints at the predatory, cold nature she must control.
4. In Chapter 59–60, snow is present during Moonflower’s escape after her mother’s death. Why is snow an appropriate setting for that moment of transformation and loss?
Answer: Snow has been constant throughout the story, and its cold, blanketing quality now represents the emotional void left by Rebecca’s death. The white world muffles sound and isolates Moonflower as she howls like an animal. Snow also provides cover—she escapes on all fours into the darkness, and the body‑cam footage is described as “overexposed,” making the snow glare white. This final snow scene strips away the earlier ambiguous warmth (the childhood memory of snowflakes) and leaves only raw survival, cold and unforgiving.