We walked always in beauty, it seemed to me. We walked and looked about, or stood and looked. Sometimes, less often, we would sit down. We did not often speak. The place spoke for us and was a kind of speech. We spoke to each other in the things we saw.
- Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow
Crisp and cold, still and quiet, we trekked gingerly over patches of frost and ice, just the creak and squeak of snow under our feet.