"There is no telling when the first snow will fall or how long it will stay but that evening the cold crisp air spoke of winter. Great snowflakes large and fast blurred the distant elms covering your path as you walked in boots warmed by a crackling fire, the collar of your fleece-lined jacket pulled up high and snug. You quickly worked through well-practiced barn chores, securing latches, replenishing feed, throwing hay and breaking thin ice in water buckets. The soft winter mist of your breath traveled back and forth between each farm animals’ stall, as you kept warm with movement. Returning to the farmhouse the light of your lantern revealed fresh tracks, now deeper but brief. The fields had turned white, their contours undulating and proud in the winter nights’ glow, the frosty over sized moon from earlier now veiled. Pausing for a moment you heard the snow falling more steady and fine, the scent of evergreens growing ever stronger on the night air. The storm had arrived and in it’s passing would come unbroken pastures of snow and a cobalt blue sky, creaking branches laden with a thick frosting of powder and children making snow angels and snowmen…and then more snow angels. Seasonal music would be heard soft and low behind the farmhouse walls. The subtle smell of fresh brewed organic coffee, warm maple syrup and blueberry Johnnycakes would dance on the brisk morning air. And here you were, hand on the knob of the farmhouse door, as if time were standing still between the seasons, ready for a rejuvenating slumber and anxious for the first rays of a new December dawn and its blanket of holiday snow." - paragraph printed on back of card