So yes, I fell a few times in the snow. Turns out two feet is a lot deeper than you think it is. Deep enough that if you misjudge the depth, your legs are immobile and all you can do is flail your upper body like one of those giant dancy things outside of a car lot.
It was more snow than I've ever seen in my entire life (which would explain me shouting "WOAH!!!" at the top of my lungs when I open the front door. Also, the falling.) I've been to the mountains, but there was two feet of snow in my neighborhood. That was the magic of it. The roads were completely empty and school was cancelled. The cars all became mounds of white, with two side mirrors sticking out
I asked the boy I'm dating "Does it always snow this much in Wisconsin?" He replied "No, this is special." And, he was right. The neighbors got together to dig out cars and mailboxes. We could hear the sound of snow shovels on pavement well into the afternoon. And on the walk home the college girls at Smith were sledding down the hills in Tupperware bins and on yoga mats.
Sure, it was cold and wildly inconvenient. But it was also so special.