I prefer snow that gently but insistently falls, covering the ugliness of Winter whilst I sit by a quiet fire with a good book and some good brandy, lost in some other time or place. Perhaps I'm with Tars Tarkas and John Carter, or learning of the Vigilantes, or traveling through the slums of 19th Century London, or chatting with the Grey Lensman or Sir Isaac Newton, or trying to understand the nature of Time until I have indeed out-watched The Bear.