The quality of silence, when one enters the white snow ... Only the creaking of our steps on the crystals hardened, and in the trees, the chirping of wrens careless ... I take you in my ride yesterday ...
the edge forest, firs dressed up ahead
The trail follows the river and we never tire of admiring the reflections in calm water 
is whispering that we notice a pine tree hanging from the cliff, bonsai extraordinary that no one could ever bargain ... Only careful walkers and ducks can be admired.
Our frosted breath before us, the numb fingers on the camera, yet we continue on the path known only too glad of the show, without we worry about the way home.
We have fun even pebbles - sheep, pills, mushrooms? And often we stop to scrutinize the underbrush, or admire the trees, looking for patterns, shapes, beautiful!
And when fatigue and cold began to catch up with us and take away the urge to continue, we emerge onto a narrow road winding through the pristine and Which brings us back to the car, glazed but happy!
0 comments:
Post a Comment