Footprints By Taylor Gustafson   Snow has been falling for several hours when I decide to go wander through the streets. Cutting between the football stadium and the academic buildings, I soon find myself on the bike path, kicking up clouds of white powder that spiral in the wind behind me. My usual route leads south along the edge of campus, merging onto Lake Boulevard and continuing on until reaching Paul and Babe. All in all, it is set to be a typical night. One would think that after twenty-one years spent in this state, snow would have little appeal to me. Yet I still find myself entranced by the glitters and sparkles of the miniscule crystals, refracting light in such a way that…