Perfect Winter Day

Prompt: "What makes a perfect winter day?" Describe the perfect winter day from your past... or imagination.

The perfect winter day would not be bright and clear. How can it be a perfect winter day without snow? I can imagine sleek, off-white gray clouds blanketing the earth as far as the eye can see. They aren't angry or sad clouds, just there to spread their white blanket over me. And I would sit in a patch of grass covered with that frozen blanket, bundled up and cozy warm, my cheeks rosy against the cold, staring up at that sky. A few little glimmers of sunlight shine through, though not enough to blind me, and make all of the snow on the ground glitter like a thousand little diamonds.

And before me would be the pond in my aunt's yard, frozen over for the winter but too fragile to walk on just yet. The surface would glimmer with the sunshine, refracting the light down into the clear depths below, undisturbed by my cousins who usually can't keep their hands out of the water. They're deterred--thankfully--by the freezing, stinging touch of the water on skin. I don't mind, though. I don't want to play in it; I just want to watch the gentle white flakes sprinkling over its surface, doing their own little dance of sparkles on the dark backdrop.

Above me, snow would fall in gentle flurries, flakes touching my cheeks and nose and lips in little strokes and caresses, then melting on the hot skin and sliding down as droplets of refreshingly cool water. My tongue would slip out to catch them, and we're so far from the city that they don't carry the ashy taste of the suburbs. It feels like we're in the middle of nowhere, and the snow tastes pure and sweet to my eager tastebuds.

Thankfully, there is no harsh wind. What do you need the wind-chill for when it's already subzero outside? No breeze crashes over my face in a flash of uncomfortable, biting cold on my tender skin, and for that I'm happy. Breezes are nice on late spring days or early in the fall, and especially in the hot summer, but not in the midst of icy winter. I don't like the days when I have to hide inside my house and bar the windows, sitting in my room and listening to the panes rattling beneath violent wind, as if a wild animal waited just outside the thin layer of glass. No, when I sit outside I want calm...

And silence. No children splashing in the water. No screaming and running and jumping. Just perfect quiet so I can enjoy the scenery without worrying about having a wet, cold ball of sticky snow burried down the back of my coat. I would much rather be able to observe the trees on the other side of the small field beyond the pond and enjoy how the sticky newfallen snow lines their brances and trunks with its essence, giving them the true visage of a winter wonderland. I've never been much for winter games, you see, as I hate both the cold and wet aspects of winter, but I do appreciate the scenery. Even I--a winter-hater--will admit that winter has its pretty moments, and I would rather catch them than miss them.

But I think when it's all said and done, after I've captured a dozen little flakes on my finger and watched their delicate perfection--the symmetrical, crystaline beauty of Mother Nature's design--melt away on my warm skin until my fingers tremble from cold air on slick water, then I'll go back up to the house. Warm air will be waiting, bursting across my face, and there'll be a cup of hot chocolate steaming on the counter, just for me.

I guess I appreciate the chocolate as much as I appreciate the scenery.