A forecasted few centimeters has turned into a foot of snow. Fluffy, powdery, white covering everything.
I've been doing a lot of hiding under a warm blanket, under a warm dog and cat, under a warm roof, dreaming about the fireplace I do not own. But sometimes it's nice to get out and trudge through the piles of snow. The best part about snow like this is that it's always quiet. The normally busy streets are completely empty, everyone afraid to leave the comfort of their front door, and there's a calm that is rarely otherwise experienced. I like that.
You never really are.