I stepped outside of Satterfield between classes today. The air was thick, chilly, and wind whipped across the bland facade of the building. I walked to the end of a long sidewalk, between Satterfield and Bowman, and as I reachedthe end of it, the atmosphere grew electric. Then the snow came, after weeks of dormancy. Winter sprung like a pissed off old man, hurling frigid ice and ill will , chastising us for our optimism.