Maine is cold during the wintertime, its an obvious fact. During the winter, some flee to warmer states, others pick up their yards, and prepare for the chilly months. My family is of the people that stay to face the cold, and on this winter evening, I am happy of the fact.

My forest is stunning this time of year, especially after an ice storm has passed. The only sound heard in this forest, is the cracking of tree limbs, heavy with ice. The stream does not flow, the wind does not blow, just me and the trees that seem to bow down to me, bent over in unnatural positions from the heaviness of ice and snow. Here in this forest, I feel pretty with the snowflakes in my hair.

You know the cold is truly freezing when it hurts your eyes. I should be home before nightfall; the nights are even colder then the days.
A tree bends over suddenly in front of me. I cry out in surprise. It bent toward me, like I am its queen. It is my servant. I laugh. The forest loves me. Trees are falling at every moment, bowing to their queen. This is my home.