One thing I love about the cabin in winter is the profound quiet of deep snow. The way it muffles the earth with thick, white batting.
One thing I have also learned is that it is impossible to completely escape the noise of today's world.
Lost Idyll
Twelve degrees and still.
Chimney smoke drifts
like a windless sail tacking
nowhere. Fine lace runners
of tatted snowflakes grace
balsams circled by deer tracks
and squirrel markings.
Only fat jays fragment
the crystallized sunshine
- a cappella -
discounting the snowmobiles
barreling through the forest.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
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