It's all a matter of perspective (and snow)

Snow changes everthing. It makes even the mundane, even the ugly look beautiful and makes the beautiful look magical. To the left, the stairs down to a basement in New York. Looks scary, frightening. Like the steps to a dungeon. The steps to doom. "Down there?" the bewildered visitor asks. "You want me to go down there?" Images of torture chambers arise. Women in leather masks. Rusty chains on bloodied rings on the wall. A fingernail on the floor. Thumb screws. Socks with holes.
Then it snows and everything changes. Same steps, on the left look like they are leading to something magnificent! A heavenly wine celler well stocked with magnums of Château-neuf-du-Pape, cases of La Tâche 1990 and first-growth Bordeaux. A woodshop, filled with gorgeous, lovingly-made children's furniture. A poetry studio, where denizens of the local village gather to discuss history's finest penmen and women, as well as establish new works of art sure to outlast their lifetimes.

But--you say--(always one but-ter in every group)--but of course the perspective is different because it is a different image with snow. The snow changes more than just the perspective; it actually makes it a different PLACE.

Hmm... maybe that's why I missed it so much, and welcomed it this morning by walking in it for hours.