The day after the snowstorm the world is brilliant. Yesterday the gray sky sent fat snow flakes in a steady shower to fill up the spaces in the forest, great sheets of white blew past our windows to coat tree trunks and heap upon outstretched branches.
Today the woods glow with the first whispers of morning light. It awakens twilit blue before blushing to soft peach and creamy yellow. By the time the sun settles into its arc across the cloudless sky, skimming the treetops, the forest seems to produce its own light, highlighting every twig, every needle. Even the shadows are lit a soft blue. And the dogs are in heaven.