This is appropriate, I think.

"I've noticed that winter has a feeling of its own.

It came from looking out of the passenger-side window while the black silhouettes of pine trees soared by and the spread of stars in the clearest of midnight sky stayed stationary behind them. All at once, as if I were hovering over those trees, I felt the mystery of cold.
It's being out at night and seeing everything so clearly because even the air becomes more pure and crisp. It's seeing your breath against a dark navy background, a kiss on the cheek that warms your entire being. It's feeling the sting of the wind on your face, and still insisting on staying outside.

As I look at those trees and their midnight companion, every thought and memory of past seasons comes rushing back. Every shade of blue and gray, every time my fingers would tingle from the change of numb to fireplace, every sound, every smell. All of these things exist in the season that chills us most, yet still bring their own indescribable warmth. Winter's feeling itself is just that, indescribable. Too many aspects, too many images, and too many sensations enter my mind in one second of thinking of winter to possibly be described in full bloom.

I am ready to wake up to cold mornings where the sun shining from window to carpet is my means of warming cold toes."