By now, I should’ve had said that I dislike winter. Snow, more snow and some more to come. But even when on the three Mondays that we had snow storms, I enjoyed them nonetheless. There’s something magical about winter when I look at the snow when they fall. Quiet, almost in a hush, but as soon as I step outside the warmth of our home, I’ll feel it. The tiny prick on my cheeks, the small drop of wetness on my hair, the sudden cold on my skin. Living in New England means that our fall would be brimming with colors and our winter would be cold and white. Some days are harder than the rests. The temperature drops, the wind chills and unfortunately I have to go out. I have a choice to either complain about the weather or simply mum and absorb whatever is happening. On the days when there’s no school bus to pick up my kids, I took them to school by the city bus. After I dropped them off to school, I would later walk a round a bit braving the cold. So that I won’t feel depressed about this long winter. Then I took some pictures. I could hear my teeth were chattering and my body was shivering, but it’s just a stroll around the block. Well, not even. I could hear people exasperating about winter. They say winter is awful, but I see plethora of wonderful things about it. Soon, people will forget when the spring comes, about how awful this winter has been. Meanwhile, I’ll put on my gloves and winter hat for another stroll around the block.