I remember snow.
White, soft, glistening in the sunlight like diamond dust.
Serene, silent, muffling the sounds of the garden.
It covers the garden, hiding it, blanketing it with comforting insulation. It reveals the faint foot prints of rabbits, the scratch of the birds huddled under a spruce tree, the trail of a gardener walking about for no reason in particular, except to see the beauty
