I do love winter.
Nothing compares to the sight of snowflakes falling. The closest I have come to hearing it expressed is:
“Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder
Where it’s so white as snow”
In terms of painting, Lucas van Valckenborch’s Winter:
Growing up, I was fortunate to be surrounded by snow. There were snowmen to build and snowballs to throw. Forts were constructed and tunnels dug. We climbed steep hills with our sleds and then sped down them.
In midwinter after snowstorms we’d carefully remove the storm window of our second floor bedroom, and jump, sinking down into the huge drifts of snow.
Hours upon hours were spent outside until your cheeks were red from the biting cold, and you went inside for a cup of hot chocolate to warm up before you went out again.
In the backyard the creek froze over, and we’d clear it with shovels and brooms. If you kept skating you’d arrive in the city, which even then I knew led to the whole wide world.