The best part of winter is early morning after a heavy snow storm just as the sun gets bright. The air is crisp. Everything is quiet and insulated by new snow. The ground is soft and fresh and bright with it’s new blanket.

The only thing you can hear are the little song birds, waking up, searching for seed. They flutter about the branches, knocking tufts of snow to the ground with soft fwumphs.

Your prints are the first to make a mark,-sounding off with a crunch, squeak and groan as your foot pushes down.

You move slowly so as not to disturb the balance of the morning. The snow is not quite dense enough to make a snowman, but the air is cold enough to make you pretend you are a dragon blowing mist and smoke about the mountains.

It may be cold, but the suns little rays try to warm your face even though they are so far away.

Soon a little red cardinal perches on the fence post, looking at you cock-eyed, waking you from your winter reveries. You suppose it’s time to go in and plan the day before frostbite sets in.