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Snowfalls mix together in my mind, Fall after fall. Moist, perfect for snowballs. Powder, perfect for skiing. Inch-wide flakes, Perfect for a cold screen door. Milk bottles on the front porch, freezing cream on top, pushing up the paper lids. No homoginizing then. I know the myth about no two falling flakes alike, Yet I wouldn't place my wager on it.
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"…O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,
and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;
but better than rain or rippling streams
is Water Hot that smokes and steams.…"
-- J.R.R.Tolkien, Bilbo's Bath Song