Long ago there was once a phenomena known as snow. It was white, cold and would fall from the sky during the winter time. Every year nature would be blanketed by many inches of this frosty concoction. Children would run outside with glee, diving into its soft embrace, making people out of snow and using sheets made of wood to careen uncontrollably down a hill over its surface. This snow was a refreshing change from the downpours and rolling thunder of summer. It made one appreciate nature’s beauty. But as time went on, the snow came in fewer and fewer amounts. It wasn’t long before winters changed from a pure white to dank and brown. No longer were the hillsides covered in a blanket of white, filled with the laughter of children, rather the hills became covered in mud with the cold rain pouring down upon them. No longer did the children run outside with glee to play in the snow, instead they sat indoors and pouted. No longer were there snow people, eyes made of coal and noses from carrots, no longer would there be angels in the snow. For winter had become nothing more than an extended autumn, bringing no joy to anyone except those who detested the snow. Those people, mostly adults, revelled in the fact that the snow had gone. They had lost their inner child and couldn’t appreciate the blessing of snow.

It is now mid-February as I sit and tell you this tale and very little snow has fallen. It has been four long years since we have seen snow piled up high around us. If it weren’t for the few inches that have fallen this season, there could be no choice but to delegate snow to the dark, cobwebbed, halls of myths and superstition.

Only time will tell if we will be blessed with snow again. As the generations pass, how long until the children no longer know the joy of sledding down a hill or making snowmen? Life would surely be lessened greatly should that ever befall us. Therefore I close this tale with an ode to that which I hold so dear:

An Ode to Winter

I dream of the bitter cold, icy, air,
the winter wind blowing through my hair,
the crunch of ice and snow beneath my feet,
the gentle fall of snow and the sizzle of sleet.

 I cannot stand summer’s warm embrace,
I despise the feeling of sweat dripping down my face,
to walk outside and have my breath taken away,
the insects, the heat, it sickens me with each passing day.

 I dream of my breath turning to ice,
because I find winter to be so nice,
to sleep with open windows in winter’s embrace,
to feel the gentle caress of snow on my face.

 I hate summer, back to hell I’ll deliver,
I yearn for the chill that makes me shiver,
summer is utterly disgusting and vile,
it makes me so ill, I’ll stay in all the while.

 I dream of my face pink with the cold,
I love winter so much, it never gets old,
the crisp cold mornings with blue skies above,
I tell you most sincerely it is winter that I love.

 So begone hated summer, go and never return,
it is the cold biting winter for that I so yearn,
get rid of the heat, and the beaches can go,
bring me cold, bring me the sweet white snow.

 Now that you know where my true love lies,
that it is the hot disgusting summer I despise,
never tell me it’s a beautiful summer day,
I love only winter, so please, please go away!

 November, December, January too,
February, oh winter I do love you,
30 degrees, 20, 10 and zero,
my sweet winter you’re my hero!

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