We were living in Montreal when my dad was diagnosed with cancer. That was in the November. Anybody who knows what Quebec winters are like can imagine what my mum had to drive through twice a day to see my dad in hospital. One night she came home and pulled her gloves off to use the front door key. Her hands were cold and as the glove came off, so did her sapphire and diamond engagement ring. There was enough heat left in the ring to make in sink all the way through 6 ft of snow.
We were out there for hours, days, weeks, sifting snow with a sieve. The guy that shovelled our path had to make sure that all our snow stayed on our property - we hadn't a clue where that ring had flown to.
Cut to March and the snow was melting. The garden had turned into a quagmire and was a complete mess. Mum came home from the hospital, looked down and there was her ring. Totally filthy, covered in mud, but intact. I got to phone my dad and give him the good news - he told my mum he thought he'd dreamed the call. He died 2 months later
That's my story about snow