Some girls like the snow for downhill skiing. Speed and adrenaline, danger and success.
Some girls like the snow for cross-country, instead. Crossing a drifted lake just after sunrise, warm from the effort, surrounded by beauty.
Some girls like the snow for snowshoe hikes. Following trails through chiaroscuro forests, quiet as a rabbit, spotting a fox, hearing birdsong.
Some girls like the snow for the way it softens. Landscape edges become curves, sounds are blunted, all seems slower, calmer.
Some girls like the snow for the sparkle. Cities and parks and shops are coated with crystal glitter, reminders of past holidays, celebrations, and families.
Me? I like the snow for the way it drifts in my back yard. When I have been given — it is a gift — a long, severe, needed spanking, I can dash outside and sit on my custom-fitted winter throne, letting it numb the pain without diminishing the effect.
I wonder what the neighbors think.
— Frenulum
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