Feeling restless, this evening I made one of my now rare post-sunset forays on foot out onto the streets of my part of the city.

I emerged onto the sidewalk in front of my place at about nine-thirty to discover the wind had entirely died away. But the snow continued to fall, thick and soft.

I didn't head for one of the nearby parks or anywhere else out of the way, but merely allowed my feet to carry me along one of the well-lighted main drags leading away from my home.

This one night, our city has been transformed into a wondrous magical kingdom.

The ugly square monoliths of the downtown, normally so omnipresent, have for this one night been veiled. Every surface is pillowed with a thick, downy layer of  white. Every branch, every twig, every fencepost and wire bears a sparkling, delicate coating that appears to defy gravity.

The cones of light cast by the street lamps and even passing cars illuminated the millions of tiny crystalline dancers who have come to share our world this night. Each one perfect. Each one unique unto itself.

Even the dozens of  billboards arrayed around Dundas and Yonge, ordinarily such an eyesore,  have been redeemed to some extent for a few brief hours, as their lights were transforming the falling snow into a shimmering rainbow veil.

I know it can't last, but for tonight this fall of February snow has brought Beauty to our city.