Snow falls innumerable and strong, yet characteristically shy, bringing a smile across my lawn and countenance. It covers the soil of my home, leaves no trace of the weeds below, blanketing us in pure, white innocence. We are elevated to heaven, rested in a cloud unashamed to welcome us home. It slowly floods each blade and speck, embraced now in a frozen envelope. The letter from an old friend inside, hints at new beginnings and suggests I come out and play. Don the thick socks and puffy coat to imagine what we can make, what we can build and enjoy while we still can. What will the empty canvas holding us become? What will become of us once it’s gone?