Standing in a cold winter forest with a fresh coat of snow when all is still, quiet and crisp is almost second to nothing. I wonder how silence can be so loud! Even the slightest bit of snow falling through the branches of the spruce sounds loud. Every now and again a chickadee or a nuthatch flutters about stirring up the stillness, or I hear the knock, knock, knock of a downy woodpecker as it searches out the bark of a dead snag looking for sustenance.
[Sigma DP3 Merrill]