Snow, you know, that cold stuff

Dear Dysfuntional,
One word; Snow. Snow is a very interesting substance, and not just because its white powdery stuff (which many people consider to be very amazing). Snow is just that random occurence which, if it had not been happening for however many billion years, would be that wierdest thing ever. For the scientist, it is a collection of frozen water droplets, falling from the clouds. To the commuter it is an obstacle, something that will side him off the most trusty of roads. To an entrepreneur, it is an opportunity, and to a child it is magic. And while snow may be all these wonderful things and more, to my estranged imagination, it is the stuff that dreams are made of. Before you all go saying how much of a cliche that is, let me elaborate on what type of dreams they inspire. Looking out my window now, in the dying rays of a cloud-obscured sun, the snow brings to mind scenes from that movie... I think its called The Grey, you know, that one with Liam Neeson. Anyway, it inspires the idea that I am being stalked by a pack of homicidal wolves; which I have to confess, if I got to be Liam Neeson, would be totally chill with me. However, when I see snow falling, my dream is totally different; thats when I make up my own children's novel, starring yours truly. In the land rapidly disappearing in a thick layer of snow, I become a little brit in stockings and ridiculous shorts. All around me is the intrigue that is the natural residue of a thousand elven creatures who are peering at me through the trunks of the pine trees and through their windows, cleverly concealed under a snow drift. Of course, the charm of the matter is that I can wander, with the snow crunching under my feet, and find nothing at all; but can see everything through my minds eye. But perhaps the best of all is when the snow falls fast and silent, and in the dead of night, lit only by the moon and the cheery glow of christmas lights, I can imagine myself on a sleigh, with a nat king cole song in my head and a rosy red on the cheek of a special somebody, sitting next to me and enjoying my winter wonderland just as much as I do.
Merry Seventh Day of Christmas (I think),
L Jenkins