Dear Snow,

You've come early this year, just like always. Hovering in the skies unexpectedly until you find the most inconvenient time to begin your reign.

Your beauty, however, continues to mesmerize me; only from a distance, though, of course. I have learned that to touch you bare skinned is purely a death wish, for your white flakes of doom are much colder than they look.

I have also learned that you like to change forms, often changing into your distant cousin, ice. Ice is my least favorite version of you because he likes to play tricks too frequently and causes me to slip embarrassingly in public places. Like how could you be so cruel to freeze like that? To almost cause numerous accidents for my car that does not have four-wheel drive, and to humiliate me in public?! Rude is the only word that comes to mind.

I have also learned the hard way that you have yet another form you enjoy changing into slush. Slush is not as bad as ice, but it is another form of evil I have yet to master. I've learned that walking through slush without proper footwear is a recipe for disaster, and without another change of socks you are in for a cold, damp day.

On the bright side, I have observed that you aren't completely bad…or so we think. You have your moments of use for less practical activities such as sledding, skiing, skateboarding without wheels, and snow ball fights. All "fun" activities that are actually your secret plan for destruction and hurt. You wait patiently to take your next victim with an unfortunate toboggan accident and laugh through the wind at your victories over middle-aged men and small children as they wipe out left and right on your slippery coated hills.

On the bright side of this, though, depending on the area, you do not last forever, and there will come a day in spring where you will be eradicated for awhile until it is cold enough for you to return.

As sad as it sometimes is to see you go, my sympathy does not last long after remembering all the poor times I have had with you.

Thanks for the white Christmases I guess, but for now, my loathing continues.