I moved from Washington DC to Rapid City, South Dakota four months ago. Though I spent 23 years in Minnesota, my year in London and four years in DC had softened me. I became weak. In my time of winter purgatory I forgot the feeling of cold, real cold. I forgot the way jeans freeze as you walk around in 0 degree temperature (-18 degrees celsius for our foreign readers). Or how the skin tightens and the cheeks actually become rosy. In five years of dealing with mushy snow, I was delighted to rediscover the squeaky sound of boots walking on deeply cold snow. And with joy I remembered the beauty of cold snow faintly falling, covering the trees and grass in a downy blanket. The cold reminds me that I'm alive.