I still recall when I was young, waking up to the glistening blankets of the first snow. A day of play in snow;, when even the wetness on my back was soon forgotten for the thrill of sledging down the hills. My face when I came in was rosy red, just like the last rose-hips still clinging to the rose-bush. In the steam of hot chocolate and newly baked cinnamon buns I felt the comfort of a day well played. I have never slept better than after that day of the first snow.