Despite the cold dreariness of the winter months, there exists an almost lulling and quiet hush to the air as the world passes by. I’ve always thought it to be an interesting phenomenon. This dormant season has peaked my curiosity since childhood and I would feel sorry for those in other parts of the world who don’t necessarily get to experience the refreshing change of climate. I find the stillness after a snowfall particularly entertaining while resisting the urge to form a snowball from the fresh-fallen powder and heave it at the nearest inanimate object - obviously a lingering habit from childhood. Some things never change.

I really tried to give the essence of wood, and if you stand close enough, you can even smell it. The bare wood is still strong, yet carries fragile branches which seem to sway with no breeze at all. Branches so fragile they may bend if a single snowflake were to rest upon them. The form of the snowflake is isolated to convey the beauty and fragility of nature at once, a beauty that can hardly be explained. A true beauty that if an attempt at an explanation were made, it would diminish its impact altogether.