Snow is mostly a distant memory. But I daydream often about winter nights in Timmins, when the mercury drops way below zero. There is no snow falling from the sky but there is a lot of it under my feet. It crunches as I trudge down the street, around the block, sometimes on my way to a destination, other times just out for a walk. The smoke rises gently from neighbourhood houses, people gathered warmly around a television. It's hockey night in Canada, and most minds are focused on the match. I don't play hockey myself -- the snow is much more interesting. Snow is where I find peace. Even if the wind howls and my face grimaces in response, I find myself in that pure white. Of course there is joy as I come back in, my glasses fogging up. The snow does not go away though.