On the coast where I live it rarely snows. But on the occasions it does, I particularly love it when the fall starts in darkness. You're gradually aware that the outside world is on mute. No cars, few voices, a blanket of quiet.
I had sworn all day that it would pass north and south of us, as it so often does, but I was glad to be wrong. Looking out from the office at the top of the house, there was a swarm of snowflakes swirling like insects around the street lamp opposite.
On the beach the next morning, trying to enjoy the miraculous transformation to Scandinavian landscape before the inevitable thaw began, it looked on every side as though more would fall. But none did.
The snow and the sea found a kind of stalemate as the tide receded.