Fresh snow hushes the world in a way nothing else can. Edges soften, sounds sink, and even the air feels gentler, as if the day itself has taken a slow, careful breath. The trees, heavy with white, bow without breaking — quiet reminders that weight can be carried with grace. In this stillness, urgency loosens its grip. Footprints become deliberate. Thoughts fall in wider spaces. What felt tangled yesterday lies covered, not erased but given time — time to rest, to settle, to be seen differently when the thaw comes.
Standing before snow-laden branches, it’s hard not to feel invited into that same patience. Not everything needs solving today. Some things, like winter, do their work in silence.
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