Consider the following

Nov 23rd.
I am so tempted to use some hackneyed global warming line, but alas I will restrain. I like snow, particularly after having been removed from a large part of it over the past ten years. In the Catskill's of N.Y.'s Appalachian range we'd get blasted very frequently. The dancing, swirling chaos of the falling snow brings back great, holiday-esque memories. Your hands start feeling like machines and your lungs feel like they've been frosted. It's a cleansing feeling for sure. My Dad wrote a book called white like snow. you can read a snippet of it or purchase it at whitelikesnow.com