Finally, a winter storm actually worthy of the name—and the hype. Grayson delivered about a foot of the driest, fluffiest powder snow in creation, and it definitely killed me, well, metaphorically, to be unable physically to make the most use of it. Of course, I'd been warned about what expending too much energy in the snow and frigid cold temperatures could do to the critical arteries of heart disease victims, and though I only marginally believe it—I'm still having trouble believing that what happened to me is a subspecies of heart disease—I took it to, well, heart, and didn't push it. I did, however, delight in the way that Grayson softened and altered the landscape. Maybe by the next blizzard, I'll be able to enjoy things in the old-fashioned manner: on skis and snowshoes, and armed with a snow shovel.