When the snow lays its white coat over the trees, it cuts out the chatter and the rustle, and the forest breathes in a slow, heavy hush. It’s a kind of quiet that feels both protective and warning – a reminder that everything can be still, but that stillness hides the next shift in wind or a hidden animal moving. I lean against a trunk and listen; the silence teaches you patience, shows you how the world can be calm and brutal at once. It’s a good place to think about how we move through life, making sure we’re not just waiting for the wind to blow.