Snow is like a time machine. Or a fossil, waiting to be discovered. But if you wait too long, a gust of wind will come and cover everything over again, as if nothing had happened there. Memories, sparkly and soft as powder, flying around the chilly tight air, resting somewhere new. Taking their stories with them.It's so interseting, all those footprints that leave remains of the past in the snow, those memories that could never have been seen in the summer. Like austronauts footprints on the moon; to those indents in the moon, it's still 1969. Or your dog's footprints from earlier this morning, his little scurries left behind him for the rest of the day.
Isn't it perfect and scary and amazing all at once?