I have had a thought in my mind for several days. Just a 'mind picture' that I cannot seem to do anything with at the moment. A single snow flake landing on a baby spruce tree branch. Winter cold, gray day, heavy skies, silent lacey flakes drifting down, silently, oh so silently one by one by thousands. Dried meadow grasses, standing stiff and frozen, coated with hoarfrost. The silence of the forest in winter, broken by the sharp crack of a tree freezing deeper in the icy cold. Silence. Crystal clear air, clean and fresh, cold and dry. The croaking call of a raven to his mate as he flies high above and out of sight. The darkness of the far pines and spruce fading into gray and finally disappearing as the flakes begin to fall faster and thicker.
But it all begins with one flake, drifting down and landing on a baby spruce tree and lodging between two needles.
Hear it.
Smell it.
Almost taste it.
Live it again.
And again.
Once more.
***** *****
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