The yellow trail slopes down towards the creek. I am the first person to walk this path in days. I follow the tracks of a lone coyote.
Even with snowshoes, this is a challenge. The snow crunches and sinks with each footstep. The next explorers will have an easier path.
But, this is a solitary gift – to be the first walk this woodland world alone.
I see a plump cluster of purple drupes – the berries of a maple leaf viburnum. Nearby, a winter firefly seems to enjoy unseen delights on the surface of the snow.
To the left is the picturesque red trail. I am reminded of a Japanese woodblock print. Mountain laurel limbs are gnarled and twisted like bonsai trees. The path undulates along a ridge. Grey spires of deciduous trees contrast with the unbroken whiteness of the snow.
Pale light is filtered through a hazy veil. It is almost a matte effect – no shadows or shimmers. All is cold, still, and damp.
The snow is starting.
Hellstrip Heaven 