There is a heaviness, no, a solemnity, about new fallen snow.  Glaringly white, made tolerable by squinting even with sunglasses, it lays quietly across fields and fences.  Character lines around my eyes can be blamed on this brilliance, more exist now than ever before.  The exurberant sense of new exploration fights against the sobering blanket.  Muffled squeaks find their way as my steps break new ground, squealing on the wet bottom layer of snow, but silenced through the powder above.

Excitement breaks and tracks are made, weaving ribbon trails.  “We are Here!” flies through the crisp air as we rotate trail breakers so no one wearies.  The snow is deep.  Walking is work.  “We are Here!”  The quiet is palpable but puppy energy pierces through in bounds!  “Here, look at us!”

Those of us who have seen this before are less boisterous, but we smile and nod all the same.

Pure snow, unmarked, quiet, solemn becomes our playground with tracks and whuffwhuff of inhaled scents, and joy in the DOING.  We ARE here… and Life is Good!