When walking into the snow, lower your head. If you are a product of northern climes this is instinctive, as is the occasional back pain which results. (See also our upcoming publication: How To Shovel Snow, A PAMPHLET.) If you are a transplant to northern climes, your ancestors may have been unable to develop a knack for watching where they were walking with their heads held at a forty-five degree angle. During the mammoth migrations they slid onto their bottoms that final time and lay there thinking, in their proto-language, "Fuck this." When they rose they turned from the course of the mammoth herds and traveled south to live on mangoes and shellfish. Either that, or they were trampled by a mammoth, in which case you are descended from ghosts. This probably explains the melancholy you can't seem to shake as well as the fact that financial stability always seems to slip through your fingers.
There is a myth that the Eskimos have a ridiculously high number of words for snow. The truth is that every language has as many types of snow as it has adjectives. A few of the more common types in English are:
* Wet snow: snow which is ideal for making snowballs, snowmen, snowforts, and snow cannons.
* Dry snow: snow which is used for martinis
* Crusty snow: snow which has a funny smell and habitually complains about kids these days
* Christmas snow: snow which starts hanging out in the malls around Halloween, making fun of turkeys
* Black snow: snow which suffers from emphysema
* Blue snow: snow which is particularly sensitive to the cold
* Yellow snow: snow which is cowardly and also not recommended for eating
* Green snow: snow which has just arrived at the front and is likely to get the rest of the unit killed if it doesn't wise up
* Clingy snow: snow which sticks to one's coat and melts when one moves indoors, only to send text messages every hour asking "where r u?" If ignored it will call your mother.
* Slutty snow: snow which hangs out on cars or buses for a while, then drops off onto the street, and ends up dripping into the cuffs of your trousers, which will then have to be washed.
Where there is snow there is ice. Snow is known for sprawling out across concrete and asphalt, looking innocent, but in fact hiding wide expanses of sheet ice. (This is colloquially known as "Fuck you" snow, not to be mistaken for the abovementioned "Fuck this" snow.) Sheet ice is what snow becomes when it has given up all hope. Sheet ice is bitter and doesn't care who it hurts; its only concern is that it not be hurt again itself. Mound ice is sometimes safer but can also be more injurious because of the protrusions. Gravel ice, in absence of clear asphalt or thick snow, is a sometimes viable alternative. As you stomp on it, crushing out its last forlorn hopes for the future, the friction should be enough to allow you to pass. But as always where ice is involved, be wary.
A word about footwear: snow has no appreciation for your kicky new shoes, and it cackles gleefully at high heels. Some say that this is misdirected envy, and that in truth snow would like nothing better than to pull on a nice pair of nylons (it just likes the way they feel against its skin) and slip into some Jimmy Choos. (This is sometimes referred to as "Carrie" snow or "High maintenance" snow.) These people are the same people who stop dead in the skyway to sing "Jesus Loves the Little Children" while everyone steers around them avoiding eye contact. The truth about snow is that it is always barefoot, and its feet are tiny.
All snow is enraged by corduroy pants, because they destroy the silence.
(See also Winter Survival Tips, A PAMPHLET.)