When you live in a valley where it doesn’t snow frequently, in a winter that is illuminated by enough sunshine that our daily existence isn’t limited to one dismal, gray sky after another, even a dusting of snow can be dreamlike.
Here, a morning snowfall has lightly coated an Eastern red cedar tree, leaving enough uncovered that you can see the green of its leaves and dense branches. While its shape is partially obscured by the whiteness of the storm encircling it, you can still discern its pyramidal silhouette.
Looking at this image feels like drinking in forest wilderness. You brace against the wind swirling around the lone tree. You imagine the hushed sound of the snow falling, falling.
By late afternoon, the snow has melted. The magical moment is just a memory.