The first
snowfall of winter brings with it a certain excitement. It has a distinctive
smell quite different from that of rain. It is a clear, cold pristine smell
like pale blue would smell if it was a perfume. Feathery flakes flutter to the
ground to join millions of others, in minutes working their white magic on the
landscape. Briefly there is perfect silence as if all life is stunned, needing
time to adjust to nature’s new clothing.
Tentative
footprints crunch and leave their mark, soon to be obliterated as if never
there. Children find new pleasures to explore, adults remember the slushy mess
of a sudden thaw.
Away from
urban sprawl nature paints her seasonal colours and does not require an
audience.
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