The snow falls around me, catching in my hair in its flight to the ground. I look at the great expance of land in front of me, great hills and trees covered in a fresh coat of glittering, twinkling snow. I shiver slightly as I think how much I hate winter.

I catch myself for a minute and think maybe that's not true, for it is very beautiful out at this moment. And I loved the snow as a child. I would stay outside and play until all hours if left on my own. I loved making snowmen and snowangels, and most of all snow igloos made from the huge piles of snow plowed from the street. My mother used to worry that the thing would collapse on me one day and wouldn't let me play in it too much.

So many winter memories I had pushed aside. Much easier to say winter is annoying and cold, rather than to remember it's good qualities.

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