Extreme cold draws moisture out of the air until it sparkles with minute ice crystals. Underfoot, snow crunches like styrofoam. The cold acoustics seem to carry sound farther, even though deep snow muffles it.
Snow begins to cover everything, then hoar frost starts growing new shapes and textures, different each day due to wind, sun, snowfall and temperatures.
I find it difficult to leave these scenes, especially knowing many fragile forms may be gone the next time I return.
Eventually the cold temperatures send me home to defrost my fingers. Setting sunlight on Slide Mountain warms my eyes along the way.