The Blanket of Winter
Still. Silent. Soft. The snow stretches across the duff. Suffocating the woods with a frigid finger of frost. Crystal clear ice wrapping each branch of every tree in an arctic cocoon. The needles frosted in freshly fallen flakes. The late season sun barely completes an arch across the sky. Winter has settled in like a weighted blanket on the forest floor. Providing a beautiful cover on the lively grounds of summer and rendering them still, silent and soft.
Silence of Winter
The silence is broken by a single breath. Then another. The rattle of spike chained feet echo along with the squeak of soft snow under a step. Breath is both seen and heard as it expels from the mouth and leads the way across the frozen tundra. The spikes dig a little deeper with each step. The blanket cascading away from churning legs. Layer upon layer of wool fights off the bitterness in the air and the chilled and stiff joints begin to become flexible once again.
Stillness of Winter
The covered trails don’t hinder the progress, the path now extends backwards, following each step like a map through untouched snow. The frosted trees begin to sway, slowly and lazily releasing the flakes to the ground. Green needles spring back to shape. The sun that lingered in the sky now shines on the crystal ice. Reflecting like a prism against the trapped bark. The stillness broken with each step through the magical world of cold powder.
Softness of Winter
Beads of sweat betray the sub-zero temperatures. The soft snow proves to be a challenge. Like walking on a sandy beach in the Caribbean with a chance for frostbite. Wind blows the sugar-like ground cover into swirls that gently kiss the cheeks up close and form rainbows like spiderwebs in the distance. It is like walking on a cloud. Some steps sturdy, some letting the foot pass right through the cotton mist.
The blanket of winter is warm and inviting for those who know where to look. The silent still softness of comfort. A chance to wrap the world with a wonderfulness that defies the frozen fate. A blank slate to start over or to create for the first time. A chance to slow down and look at something so familiar with a vision as fresh as the first fallen snow of winter.
More from The Fatman
If you enjoyed this post you may enjoy more of the posts on my Fatman’s Rambling page. Blogs such as “Screw it, I’m Trying”, “Hiking Alone not Lonely Hiking“, “Winslow, Arizona” and “Lost in the Woods” as well as many others may interest you there. If you have any comments or topics you would like me to cover, feel free to email me at fatmanlittletrails@gmail.com. Or you can keep the conversation going by following me on any of the below social media platforms.