....that time when I find any excuse at all to go outside at night, the streets empty because everyone has retreated inside to escape the awful cold. No crickets, no cars, no kids playing at the park. Just the far away sound of the freeway. Other than that: silence. Which is made even more wonderful when you are surrounded by flurries of falling snow, the busiest looking silence you will ever experience. The only acceptable breaking of this particular quiet is the sound of crunching snow under my feet as I walk to the mail box to see if the mail man decided to deliver mail this evening. You never know! It could be a really urgent letter! So I have to check. Of course, I make a few quick hops and wrap my arms around myself to make it look like I am suffering at least a little bit, just in case some nosy neighbors are gazing out their windows. I'm sure I look pretty strange, in my mom's ridiculously puffy (but oh, so warm!) red coat and my pajama pants spilling out over the sides of my brother's big galoshes. I reach the mailbox and open it, realize it's too dark to see into so I put my hand in, hoping no spiders have decided to take refuge there for the night. Surprisingly, it is empty. All well. As I close the mail box and turn back to the house, I take a second to appreciate the snow covered road, extending away into the darkness, that has yet to be driven on and made gray and mushy by dirty cars. The rumors are true folks: snow really does glisten. I wait long enough for freezing breath to cloud my vision and then, regrettably, skip back to the house, my snowy soiree ending all too soon. I always re-use my previous footsteps, because why waste all that perfectly crunchable snow in one night when the mail man might come tomorrow night? Am I right?