Sounds of the storm

The morning sky was gray, filled with snow, flakes floating. It was quiet.

Snow changed to sleet. The quiet was gone, changing to a steady clicking sound, ice pellets hitting windows.

Sleet changed back to snow. It was quiet once more.

Afternoon, it was time for a walk, snow crunching beneath my feet.

Another sense, a picture, sight...
I looked up to see a small patch of blue in a gray, cloud-filled sky. I looked away, then back again. The blue was gone, the sky was clothed in gray. Do you suppose the blue was a figment of my imagination?