What does winter mean for you?

When I was 4 till 8 years old, my family had a cabin in the sierra nevada mountains of California. We would drive "forever" (probably 5 hours?) from our home in southern LA county into the mountains for holidays and occassional long weekends. I can still remember rolling down the car window and sticking my face into the wind to catch the crisp scent of the ponderosa pines (still my favorite smell in the world) as we ascended the twisty mountain roads. White christmasses we spent there snowmobiling, cross country skiing, and skipping snowballs across the frozen pond. Summers we rode motorcycles around the logging roads, hunted for morrel mushrooms, fished, hiked and sat on our porch watching the fog roll into the valley below in the evenings. This is also the first place I remember my mom baking fresh homemade bread (a passion I carry on to this day).