It snowed last night in the village. The flakes came down thick and fast blowing in the howling wind which frightened all the little children and made them pull their covers up past their ears as they lay in bed.
But now, as the sun just starts to rise, all is quiet and soft with the new fallen snow. The drifts pile high in the main street, but not for long. As soon as they've had their breakfast, and bundled up in jackets and mufflers enough to satisfy their mothers, all of the little boys and girls will be out in the street carving out pieces of drifts to make into snowmen or burrowing underneath to make snow forts to protect them from the barrage of snowballs sure to come from the boys down the block.
Outside of town, in the farmer's pasture, the pond has frozen over and the older boys and girls, ecstatic that they don't have school today, jump the fence and one by one glide out onto the ice on uncertain legs. Soon enough, though, they're dancing across the ice with ease, all pirouettes and smiles.
On the hill over yonder some children toboggan down the slope, and even the adults are in on the fun zipping by on their long cross-country skis down the middle of the lane. Who in the village isn't enjoying the snow?