Towards a snow storm

I have depicted one of my dearest places: a wicket gate at a dacha leading to a small village road, across which a neighbors house is visible. Scattered leaves lie on the wet asphalt, and gleams of bright sunshine are visible in the sky - the day is drawing to an end, and in half an hour dense clouds of the first snow will arrive. There will be a snowstorm all night, and snowflakes will whirl madly in the darkness, whimsically playing in the warm light of the rare lanterns. It will be cold outside, but the stove, birch firewood and hot tea will warm anyone...