She laughed and spun around.  Eight inches!  Magical.  Cold white powder clung to the little rubber grips on her thick red gloves, soaked into her neakers which, in her haste to get outside, she had forgotten to waterproof with grocery bags.  The snow fell harder now, and bitter wind bit her cheeks, coloring them to the hue of the soft pink coat she wore.

She breathed in the cold gusts of wintry wonder, absorbed the elightful scent of pine and the old scarf that was tied around her neck.  Her hair, long and brown and straight, escaped from under her hood and, enjoying its newfound freedom, obeyed the air as it blew back and forth, this way and that.  Her nose and earlobes reddened, and her eyes narrowed, squinting into the white-gold sun.  In the distance, she could make out rows and rows of trees and a couple of big suburban houses with now-white roofs.

She shivered.  Her breath came out white in the thin air, white like the snow.  Her face felt frozen now, but that was okay.  She didn't mind.  Carefully, she knelt down, then pulled her legs out so she was lying in the snow, staring at the cloudy sky, watching the snowflakes fall, one at a time, slower now.  They were falling slowly now, one at a time.