Many close the doors tight and  turn into strictly indoor beings during the winter. there are people who go out of doors no greater distance from door to car door, parked car to building door and all the while grumbling about the cold weather and the season of winter.
They miss the sparkle, sharper and more iridescent than the glimmer of sequins, that the cold snow radiates even with the slightest bit of sun or the glow of the full moon from clear winter sky.
Huddled inside listening to the furnace rattle and hum they do not hear the  elegant sound of ice coated branches  tossing like chimes in the  wind wafting through them.
Living in the temperate world of roof and walls all day and night, day after day they   see the winter outside as but grey and white yet if they were to spend some time searching the landscape they would find just how remarkable the bits of color, a random berry preserved on the twig, the varied shades of dried grasses and leaves can be to the eye that is familiar with gleaning what it can from to the winter scene.

Winter, to those who tend to avoid weather and  persist in climate controlled fabricated worlds, seems like a big old  yeti they avoid and fear. they do not venture forth to note the delicate and intricate beauty nature's designs leave upon the landscape.

 “How many things by season season'd are, To their right praise and true perfection!”
William Shakespeare

 “She enjoys rain for its wetness, winter for its cold, summer for its heat. She loves rainbows as much for fading as for their brilliance. It is easy for her, she opens her heart and accepts everything.” 
 Morgan Llwelyn

 “In winter, play with the snow; in summer, play with the Sun! Do not wait for something to come; everything is already here! In autumn, play with the leaves, in spring, play with the flowers! In summer, don’t wait for the winter; in winter, don’t wait for the summer! Everything is already here, in this present time you live in!”  Mehmet Murat ildan

“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.” Lewis Carroll