A winter walk along a snow covered path through the woods has a special quality of stillness. It's a quiet made of your own muffled, almost soundless footfalls and those of the creatures who made those tiny tracks. You sense that they are hiding with held breath just out of sight under the pillowed snow beside the frozen water in the stream. Your frozen breath hangs in the air, as if afraid to fall and shatter the peace. The lowering sun makes the shadows lengthen silently through the woods, across the brook between the trees.
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