Working at the newspaper there really isn’t a “snow day.” Yes, it is snowing and there are icicles pointing down from buildings but a newspaper must be printed. Even if my driveway is covered with snow eight inches deep, stories must be typed off and sent to be edited. You can catch me sitting at my dining room table, crept over my laptop typing away, simultaneously making calls and sending emails. On the table lies coffee, pens, a notebook and my laptop. Although I can spend my time waiting for edits, creating captions for my pictures or appropriate headlines for my articles – there is the peaceful time in between to look through the frosted windows and into the cold abyss of snow. Snow is heavy, scary and beautiful all the same time. When I think of snow, as an adult, I picture an intimidating drive to work. I tend to think of frozen pipes, slipping on ice or wearing two pairs of socks. I miss the times when snow meant no school, sledding, snowball fights, making snowmen or…