Whenever the first snowfall arrives, it always awakens the inner child in people. No one can help but walk to the window to watch as the neighborhood transforms. It's even more spectacular when this happens at night.
Why is it that birch trees seem so magical in the snow? I felt like I was navigating Narnia as I walked, careful with each step, through town.
I love that Russians aren't afraid of a bit of snow. People still go about their regular day (evening), walking their babies in buggies, escorting grandmothers to the grocery store, all the while bundled up and snuggled together a little bit closer.
Once we awoke the next morning, the sun was doing its best to make an appearance, and the snow remained, slowly making everything that was once so grey, turn white, a most welcomed sight.
The sun and bite of cold were too perfect to resist, so we layered on our warmest and went for a walk among the locals.
Tyler's hat has been coming in very handy these past few days.
Halfway through our walk, neither of us having eaten lunch, we decided to stop in at our favorite cafe and order some soul-warming food.
Feeling rejuvenated, but not quite sufficiently caffeinated, we picked up a coffee and headed to the river by the park.
The afternoon sun was beginning to set behind us, leaving a beautiful dimming light over the riverbank.
The entire bank had recently been redone and it was the perfect place to huddle up, hand in hand, and take a stroll, admiring the seemingly idyllic autumn.
Once we neared the end of the river's footpath, rosy cheeked and chipper, we ventured back up to the walking street and enjoyed the Narnia-esque promenade back to our warm home.