One more...

I love the groan of active snow and the white noise of wind. I like sitting by the window to watch the snowflakes furiously and dizzily race down from the skies, and I like the sky itself. On the dark New Hampshire street I grew up on the plum snow-sky was eerie, night was slightly lighter than the norm and it more often than not felt like the preshow act for a scarier fantasy movie. In my current Boston neighborhood the snowy night sky is still purple but closer to grey than an actual color. Since streetlights never allow complete darkness the muted sky feels more like another old worn blanket on top of my bed- comfortable. I can still see flakes spiraling down, but the main difference is the quiet that is also falling. No rushing cars, buses, pedestrians. It is same time of quiet I sat in many times as a kid on the night after Christmas well beyond my bedtime sneakily and steadily assembling a new LEGO set in the dark in my bedroom, satisfied smirk on my face since the moon most always illuminated our backyard through the pine trees. I could build, listen, and play sentry over the snowflakes that ensured a snow day whenever tomorrow struck.