Yes I do.

The clouds fill with a darkness I love, a reverse of what most people which. I taste the fresh snow, upwind of me, to the southwest. The clouds move quickly and settle, settle gently overtop, like a comfortable blanket. A wind picks up, shaking the trees awake, trembling a lonely pine that sits away from the others.
A squirrel chatters, and the pine tree's massive branches shudder as he disappears from view, his now-prime beautiful fur fluffed up.
I smell upwind, the strong snow that's coming, and here I know, I know what's coming.
Yet I do not run, nor hide. It will be a powerful, lordly storm, yet short. It will cover the landscape and transform it, and only the wisest of beings can recover the territory and reclaim it.
The ever-present battle of winter is here, and I can only rejoice. Hunger rumbles in my belly, and a coyote runs through the frosty trees, its strong and pine-like smell wafting through the trees as it's sweat leaves wet marks in the snow.
The crystals weigh the trees down in such a way I can not capture, nor would I want to, and I catch my breath.
The wind picks up again, turning the rather beautiful, overcast day what some would call cold. I love -20, celsius, and I exhale heavily, my billowing breath disappearing. The wind makes it colder, and my face is surely now red, but I huddle against it.
The first snow starts falling, gentle only for a little while.
I can see three ruffed grouse huddled, ready for their snowy blanket, and I long to experience that, but I waste no time.
I need shelter. And soon.
It must be close to -30 now, with a strong and persistent wind, heavy and swaying my body, and I am reminded of the consequences of ignorance.
I find a fallen tree, and huddle under it, my body flush against the roots and dirt. The strong smell of rot stings my nose, but it is somewhat refreshing. It will hide
my scent and protect me.
The wind knocks over a dead, skinny poplar tree, and I watch it fall into the snow. A rabbit, nearly covered by snow now, hops away with fresh fright, heading for my tree. It sees me and instantly switches direction, even more panicked.

The snow picks up its pace now, heavy and thick, allowing the wind to drive it against the forest. The fury of the snow reminds me how lucky I was to find a spot in time, my senses lesser than the other animals, all hidden away.
I watch the storm a little while longer, and then I fall to a peaceful yet light slumber.

I awake when the storm subsides, and shaking off the frosty snow, I stretch and spend quite the better part of an hour navigating the transformed hillside, and finally I reach my dark, thick-air and rather hot house, despite the cold weather.
dogsandwolves dogsandwolves
16-17, F
Aug 27, 2014