Here’s a short, engaging story built around the question: Title: The Snow Letter

That winter, when the first flake finally fell — soft, fat, silent — Mika ran to the window. She turned to her grandfather and smiled.

“By ,” he continued, tracing the dragon’s spine toward Tohoku, “the snow is deep enough to bury a house. That’s when the yukiguni — the snow country — is born. Places like Ginzan Onsen turn into ghost villages of white.”

But it was her grandfather’s secret map that held the answer. On it, he had drawn Japan as a dragon.

“Ah.” Her grandfather’s eyes twinkled. “February is the heart. The Sapporo Snow Festival carves ice into castles. The monkeys in Jigokudani sit in hot springs with snow on their heads like little old men.”

Every year, just as autumn’s red maple leaves began to fade, young Mika would ask her grandfather the same question.

“Oji-chan,” she’d say, tugging his wool sleeve. “When is Japan’s snow season?”

He tapped the dragon’s tail. “ is the trickster. Some days it blizzards. Other days, you can ski in a t-shirt. By April, the snow melts into cherry blossom rivers.”