December 26, 2016 – There really is something magical about a forest blanketed in snow. There is a quiet, a peace….when I stand here, the entire world is muffled in a blanket of silence, and I feel the world around me a little bit more clearly.
Even when a breeze slips through the trees, they let their blanket of snow sift silently off their branches to drift magically to the ground below.
Even the river sleeps, occasionally finding an opening, showing its face for a moment, before sliding back under the thick blanket of ice, its fall silenced.
The colours of midsummer a memory, hidden in deep shadows.
The vacationers long gone, flown south to warmer climes, their summer homes empty and cold, no raucous mouths awaiting feeding again until spring.
But even though the forest is cold and impersonal, colourless and quiet, the sunlight still finds a way to bring a touch of golden light and dust everything in a shimmering sparkle as its rays pass through the fine snow drifting from the branches above.
Winter is a quiet time, the forest and many of its residents asleep; in its silence it has a beauty all its own.