Anyone who pays attention to this blog knows that I'm not winter's biggest fan. In fact, looking through my blog history, this seems to be my first post about snow. Huh. Well, I guess it's not entirely surprising ... but it's not that I hate snow. I don't really enjoy the temperature that comes with the season, but more than that, winter in the big city is usually a whole lot of brown slush and sneaky sidewalk ice and not nearly enough gorgeous, fluffy, white flakes blanketing the landscape. It's just not inspiring.

However, every once in a while, the stars align and the weather actually cooperates. A few weeks ago we had a lovely snow on a day where my schedule was blissfully empty. So, I grabbed my boots and my camera and went for a long walk in High Park. Because it was a weekday afternoon, the freshly fallen snow was virtually untouched, and I had the park nearly all to myself. It was a peaceful and almost surreal experience.

If this is what winter looked like all of the time, I'd be a lot less harsh with it.  

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