The snow came late.  Hours after it had been predicted, it finally arrived.  At the beginning, it was barely noticeable, easily mistaken for drops of water taking their time falling to earth.  Another degree colder and giant white flakes became more obvious as they began to collect on the barely dormant grass.

The forecast had been for six inches, but the paucity of flakes made it obvious that was exaggerated.  No more than an inch could be expected from such a meager event, and it had not even begun to stick to the sidewalk.  Winter had arrived, but not with any conviction.

Winter is a time of withdrawal, preparation for the renewal of spring.  Winter brings peace and introspection.  Without the sleep of winter, the world cannot restore itself.  Lack of sleep makes the next day a difficult endeavor at best.  This was the third year in a row that winter began with whimper.  The world was running on fumes.  If sleep did not come soon, it would be too late.

And yet, no one seemed to notice or to care.  The rhythm of the seasons, of the world, was off.  The lack of rejuvenation tugged at us.  But we did not notice.  The warnings of the few were easily dismissed and ignored.  We all know what happens when you go too long without sleep.  But what does it matter if winter does not come?