Snow. We don't see much of that in Texas.
My hubby and I lived on 10 acres adjacent to a large area of Army Core of Engineers property that ringed Stillhouse Hollow Lake. This is where we raised our sons. It was a wooded area, high on a hill overlooking the headwaters of the lake. We could see the "weather" coming from the other side of the lake, long before it arrived at our house.
On the rare occasions we did have snow, it truly opened up another world. Besides all the usual beauty of snow on the ground, the trees, etc., suddenly there were hundreds of tracks all over the place! What was once invisible was now a clear picture before our eyes.
Hubby was an avid hunter all his life and a Game Warden for 25 years, so identifying the tracks was not a problem. I always knew we had deer and cottontails there, but now we saw the dance they did played out all over the open expanse we called our yard.
And we saw the fox who were drawn by the rabbits, and the deadly game played out there, which we could then track to its final destination, thanks to the snow. Well, the destination was final for the rabbit, anyway.
We found one fairly large cat print, a bobcat who had come in our back gate which opened to the hills around the lake. And racoons, of course, making pawprints everywhere as they "felt" of everything, especially near the pond. We also had a couple of ringtails. In case you've never seen one: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ri
I petted a caged one once and it had fur as soft as my Rosie who gets brushed every day.
This all without leaving our place. Out in the wilder areas there was more, of course, and you could follow tracks and see a story unfold before your eyes. Sometimes a joyful dance of life. Sometimes final fearful minutes for whomever was lower on the food chain.
Wow, someone mentioned snow and I guess I got lost in snowy memories of winters past.