The quiet stillness of winter. Freshly fallen snow with nary a track to be seen. Frigid air bites at the skin. Wrapped in warmth, feet sinking into the plushness. Snow-capped mountains in the distance, a layer of fog surrounds them. Bare trees gone white with it’s bark peeking through underneath. The time of year when the suns warmth is welcomed, defrosting the icy chill. The snowfall is blinding in the sun, but without the solar beam, the grey tempers it. As dusk sets in grey turns to black and the white illuminated by the moon. Hours pass and the sun rises to brighten the morning and the cycle is renewed.