Our first snowfall of the year, magically transforming the landscape.
May you stay warm on the inside, when it's cold on the outside.
Out of the bosom of the air,
Out of the cloudfolds of her garment shaken,
Over the woodlands, brown and bare
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
~~By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.~~