Carpe Nivem!

We The People of the United States, having desired snow with an unholy passion, are revelling in our scanty inches. It fills the air, only to vanish from the ground. Anorexic snowmen line every suburban home and churchyard. Snowballs are improvised of a mud-snow hybrid. In a land where we are advised against wishing a Merry Christmas, high schoolers keep an almost religous reverence towards the shaded, delicately preserved lower football-golf field, whose short trimmed grass has just barely allowed for an illusion of deep snowfall. God Save Missouri; I came here in search of Four Seasons, and I will not have a freak air stream pattern rob me of one...