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It's the crunch. The sound that snow makes when it's fluffy and fresh and sparkly, like crystals hanging in a sun drenched window and you're the first one to walk on it.

It's the sharpness of the air, so clean and so crisp that you can see it when you breathe, going in like mint and out like smoke.

It's the smell of exotic woods gathered and chopped and stacked, burning in big stone fireplaces, slithering out of chimney's and seasoning the neighborhood like a newly opened bag of potpourri.

It's angels made by little kids with big smiles who flop down and flap their wings and single footprints disappearing into a long blanketed fields and snowmen with stone eyes and carrot noses and beanies and scarves and none who look the same just like you and me.

It's hot chocolate that's a little too hot with little marshmallows floating on top and hours spent skating on rinks next to grandma's house and whizzing by friends on new sleds down your favorite hill.

It's red cheeks and giant mittens and faces you can hardly see hidden behind purple scarves.

It's being warm while looking out at the cold and snuggling under soft comforters watching favorite movies.

It's long icicles and tire tracks and snowballs and Christmas and sleighs and white bunnies and cards and presents and parties and family and love and chatter and ......it's starting over again. Happy New Year!

Learn more about this author, Kevin Holten.
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