The next morning I put on several layers of warm-weather clothing and went for a walk by myself. The world was pristine, the ground untouched by footsteps or tracks. The peaks that tower over the town were obscured by the clouds and by the flakes that continued to fall down and pile up. Every tree was coated in snow, almost as if God had told them to don their winter attire. Trees are beautiful in their own right, of course, but there is something about that snow that makes them more beautiful still.
I found a marker for a trail and followed it, trudging through deep woods made up of towering conifers.