Winter holds grace, beauty, and violence all in one. Even the most terrible storms create (before, during and afterward), something that can stir our hearts as it does with the snow drifts. It speaks to the animals in a deep, warning way before it hits. They know where to go and what to do, and go and do as they've always done, while trees wait in a tense but willing silence, and the lakes start to sing a different song.

It's a magical but ruthless time.

But maybe we should be more like the land it comes upon.