I need to make sure I'm not in narrative mode.
As the frosty wind blows across the white, snow covered landscape, a small family chops down their annual Christmas tree. The biting cold chills them to the bone as they slowly bring the tree to the ground. As they take the tree home, they gaze upon a small group of children constructing a snowman. The adults reminisce of their childhood and of the carefree feeling of playing in the first winter snow. The family begins to set up the tree in their suburban home while the fireplace crackles with a faint red glow. They decorate the tree with many ornaments of various shape, size, and color. The children string the lights across the narrow branches as the parents delicately suspend the ornaments on the branch's fragile tips. Once finished, the family sits around the glow of the warm fire and watches the white snow fall from the sky. The children imagine opening their Christmas presents and what gifts they might receive. The father now sees them off to bed, as it is very late. The children nestle down in their warm bed for the slumber that awaits them. The father brings them a glass of milk, and tells them a bedtime story of a brave hero saving a beautiful princess. The parents set off for bed in hopes that tomorrow will be as good as this day was. Winter is chill.