Cold clear winter air flies about. It is the kind that clears your nose, numbing it while opening it. The wind takes away the noise of society, leaving a roaring, silent peace. This same air playfully tosses the steadily falling flakes about. Teasing them like a cat with a mouse; the flakes get inches from the ground before the wind grabs them and throws them high into the sky. The breath of the sky is not able to catch all the flakes; the ground is doused in mounds of powdered sugar, spilled by a child with a sweet tooth that got carried away. A small brook, silent encased in glittering beauty, drifts away out of sight. Scraggly bushes surround a tall tree like an old woman clutching a blanket that is more holes than blanket. Air whips through the blanket, the tree creaks and moans messages to her twin farther down the brook. Faint whiffs of evergreen blow by, a grove of Hemlock stand together obscured by soft flakes that kiss cheeks and tickle noses. An upward sloping hill leads to thick enticing branches covered by thousands of tiny green sentries that will give way to a silent fortress, protected, a peaceful smell enveloping one’s serenity. A steep bank backs the grove that leads to a low, flat lake. Broken chunks of ice float about like summer tubers down a wide, southern river. Beyond, lays a rocky meadow that shrinks from the immense, silent forest, untouched by humans. The air continues to tease the snow, piling more and more powdered sugar, the child’s sweet tooth insatiable. The fresh animal paths and drifts create adventures for a day no sun has smiled upon.