Winter in the city is much different than in the country. In some ways it is more magical. On evening walks with my dog, lights twinkle off newly fallen snow - multi-colored reflecting pools of holiday cheer. During the day, you can take a short walk and see little chickadees flitting back and forth grabbing sunflower seeds from generous feeders - a fluffy black squirrel running up the side of a tree with a peanut (an offering from a kindly resident) all set to have a holiday snack. When the wind blows gently, all around you snowflakes will softly make their way to earth - you feel as though you are on the inside of a winter-wonderland snow globe. The tiny flakes land on your eyelashes and mittens and nose and hair. The dog you are walking begins to change color from red to white.
When snow falls quietly - without wind to disturb its assent to earth from the heavens - it will perch itself on every object forming a cold, soft pillow - a pillow that can be disturbed with the slightest movement of air. Millions of perfect, one-of-a-kind buddies stack on each other until a little dusting of snow becomes a mound of white perfection. The old Adirondack chair left outdoors takes on new life appearing as though it is cushioned with down, soft and white - it looks inviting and comfortable - a place to rest a tired and weary soul. The corner fire hydrant sports a soldier's helmet - standing straight and tall - at the ready - waiting for a call to service at a moment's notice.