I've seen snow. I've done snow before, lots of it. I've nearly frozen in the snow. I've traveled for hundreds of miles through Antarctica, completely naked. Cold can be a powerful, dangerous, wonderful thing.
For some reason, even though I felt I was finished with the snow, it's beautiful here. I don't know why I am at peace. I keep going over Frost's poem in my mind; The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.