My favorite snow
I no longer live in snow country, but it snowed at midnight on my birthday--my favorite kind of snowstorm, too. It inspired this passage in the novel I'm currently writing:
Damon rinsed the toothbrush and wiped his face. A church bell sounded in the distance, marking the hour. He listened intently. There was another sound, very faint, yet discernible, nonetheless. A soft clicking against the trees, earth, and windowpane came from outdoors. He opened the window and witnessed a snowstorm—his favorite—with millions of tiny crystalline balls drumming and bouncing in a musical cadence with the wind.
The beauty of the snow cascading under the glow of his porchlight filled him with wonder. The timing itself seemed difficult to fathom. He stood and watched the beautiful scene for a long time before he shut the window and went to bed.