Local news: an untold billion crystalline paratroopers cast their downy way down, whirling, twirling, tumbling to land — gently — on roofs and posts and caps and the occasional expectant, outthrust tongue. It’s winter… it should by god snow.
Mind you, this is heavy, wet stuff; surely the prodigious sort that (we’re told) Eskimos have a hundred words for.1 This is the stuff that sticks, that clumps and bunches on wet, black branches and gracefully-draped power lines alike, and on the occasion that the first leans a little too much on the second, then it’s good to have a backup power supply. A genny.2
Meanwhile, it sure is pretty. And — fair warning — it makes for a right awesome snowball.