Hello! I have recently rebranded A Quiet Moment. As you can now see, this space is known as Forest Wanderer—a term I have long used and resonated with to describe myself and my creative work. Nothing else will change, just a little refresh after 2 wonderful years on Substack. ♡
Miniature snowflakes drift lazily through the air, in no hurry to reach their destination. Air currents pull them this way and that, and the world becomes a snow globe. As I lay my head on my pillow and inch toward sleep, a fine dusting coats the world outside.
But we are in store for more, much more.
In the grey dawn of morning, the landscape shines with a subtle glow. Powder, knee-deep in places, covers everything. Its texture fine, light enough to blow away.
And so I lace up my boots and don my toque, sling my backpack over my shoulders, with my camera inside—waiting, ready.
As I reach the top of the hill, the sun shines from behind thin layers of high cloud—the light warm and golden. Soft. The entire world feels softened; the hard edges of the forest smoothed, the messy undergrowth hidden, even the light itself a gentle glow rather than the harsh brightness of unfiltered sun.
Fallen trees, stumps and rocks are all buried beneath a thick blanket, forming gentle, rolling hills that catch beams of sun—patterns abound in shadow and light, while spotlights in the forest draw my eye with their sparkle.
A rare treat, a forest untouched, fresh tracks. No footsteps mar the path ahead but that of a squirrel, perhaps realizing it was too difficult to venture too far from the tree.
Gilded mounds, limned in light, shadows of towering trees stretch across open snow, branches reach their skeletal fingers into the air, into the barely-there glow of sunlight.
A world cocooned, isolated, protected as only big snowfalls can do—the effort too much for many to endure, to enjoy. But though my heart beats fast and my legs ache from the added difficulty, I turn this way and that, enamoured, enriched, ecstatic to be a witness of such untouched beauty.
Alas, all good things reach their end, as my legs start to tell me, my energy flagging. I reach the main path, still untouched, and begin the slow descent home.
I’m sending you all my love, thank you for joining me for another wonderful year wandering the forest. Happy holidays, my friends, and have a gentle and restful new year.
♡ Whitney
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What a wonderful walk. Nothing more magical or quiet than a walk through the woods in fresh snow.
You are fortunate to enjoy it. Thanks for the share.
Thank you for sending your pictures! Your love is felt with each one. Good to know that you have recovered enough to make such a trek in the knee deep snow! Blessings to you now and in the new year!