The roof groans from the weight of the snow and an untrained eye would fear a leak or collapse. The roof has supported so many pounds of snow for an unknown amount of time. Long enough that the sounds of creaking and groaning are simply part of the house, sounds of comfort. How strange the silence would be if the snow was removed. How strange a silence if the winds ceased.
Windows, altered from their natural condition, are covered with ice. Any images or views seen through the windows are blurry, unclear. Light traveling through the window gets distracted and misdirected time and again. Incoming and outgoing messages rarely reach the receiver completely or correctly. Ice has become constant interference tainting any and all communication. Ice is harmful, but ice is constant, reliable, consistent.
Snow has gathered on all sides of the house. The ground has been a bright, pristine, undisturbed bed of white for as long as the roof has been groaning. Steps leading up to the porch, in the entire history of the house, have never been engulfed by the snow that seems determined to smother the house. A layer of ice does not cover the porch so it has not become a platform offering stumbling, bruises and injuries. Maybe a dim light flickers occasionally from somewhere inside.
Winds carry snow and ice drastically changing the appearance of the house. It is not a bad house when on the receiving end of a really good look, not at all falling apart or in disarray. It is still the same house that stood here before the wind and the snow and the ice, the appearance has only been altered slightly as time has passed.
It is possible the door will open with ease, however, it is also possible that the door is frozen shut. A visitor need only approach to discover the truth.
