Images from the day: Snowshoes crunching along, slithering in soft snow and breaking through crust of hard snow. Hoar frost on silver fir boughs, thin filaments of ice–needles upon needles. The howl of hillclimbing snowmobiles. A tiny white snowflake on my black glove. Overcast sky. Ravens in the distance. Flittering movement–a winter wren is darting in and out of crevices in the snow. It disappears and reappears, tail erect, shiny eye on me. I remember summer and the long liquid trilling of these little mites in the brush near streams. Today there are only short chips of sound, and the whirr of wings.