Snowbirds, those people that flock south when the cold weather comes. They don’t seem to realize that most of the northern beauty is in the winter. Wherever you are, in the frigid temperature of the Arctic, the muggy tropics, or somewhere in between, relax your body and mind, and take another trip with me.

Looking out your window, you see a fresh quilt of snow outside, at least six inches. It is all unmarred, no tracks of any kind. The plows haven’t even come through yet.

It strikes the eye, somehow, in a beautiful manner. You can see each flake glistening in the feeble sunlight, almost ready to melt. You need to go outside, but something is stopping you.

The beauty.

You could stare at it for hours.

Finally, you muster up the courage to shovel your walkway. You step outside, and it comes at you from all directions. The pine trees with the slightly bent branches, from the weight of both the needles and snow. The grey clouds above, threatening more snow for later. All the cars covered in snow, mainly just lumps in the snow-blanket.

Everything is still undisturbed; even the birds are quiet.

Then, from one of the nearby houses, you hear excited yelling and screaming from children. You now know that this quiet neighborhood is going to become a bustling community of snowball fights, snowmen, and snow angels. It pains you to see it happen, but your inner child wants to have the same fun.

You give in, throwing a snowball at your neighbor. He laughs, and throws his own. The children, all bundled up in endless layers of clothing, come waddling up, creating a snowball war. It’s too big to be called a fight.

Hours fly by, unnoticed by everyone. You realize you’ve spent your entire day outside, having a ball. You don’t feel cold in the least; instead, it feels like you’ve spent your whole day by the fireplace.

You trudge back inside, maybe have a glass of eggnog, and head to bed.

The next morning, you are completely rested and ready to have a day like yesterday. You look out your window, and see nothing but dead grass, pine trees with unbent limbs, a cloudless sky, and visible cars. A large sigh escapes you, and you wait impatiently for the next snow day.