“Crispy and white, is the fluffy stuff, having fallen onto the tree branches at night” Gun Roswell

Snow fall in the forrest

The  whole night before, had something special for the wanderer in store, with the powdery stuff now covering all, even the tree branch, hanging there softly by the edges, only to be taken off with a slight shake.

The transparent flakes, piling onto the others, not really knowing where one ended, but still it all looked so splendid, the softness hovering and covering it all, trees, bushes and fields and all.

It was a miracle done by nature, turning the grey and dull overnight into a picture perfect fairy tale like image, something reminiscent of a picture from a book, and so with a single look, trying to memories it all into the deep recess of the mind, to conjure up during a hot night of summer warm.