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Two days ago, a heavy snowfall kept me from walking the forest trails, so I made do with strolls along the neighborhood streets. But today, at last, I headed back into the woods. The paths once blocked by snow have now been packed down by the diligent footsteps of fellow walkers, making them passable again.
The snow-covered forest is wrapped in profound silence. As I walk through that stillness, the only sound reaching my ears is the crunch of my feet pressing into the snow. The cold air is so refreshingly crisp that my nose delights in breathing it in freely.
All I see are bare trees scattered across the white fields of snow, and above them, a sky painted by the setting sun. The deer I used to meet here have vanished, perhaps seeking refuge from the snow, and even the squirrels, once busy searching for food, are nowhere to be found.
I quicken my steps, eager to finish the walk before the sun sets.
My Story (183) Snow Storm 2025
