Riley Hemmings '16

         The cold winter wind howls against the walls of our cabin. Outside are a frenzy of tumultuous snowflakes, screaming and scraping against all of our windows. Icicles form quickly out here in the frozen forest and nights never fail to go below zero - the prefect conditions for hysterical snowstorms and piercing icicles. All afternoon and into the night we sit and watch from the protection of our cabin as the wind pulls the snow sideways across our windows. The sounds of the storm outside as as a starving animal would sounds, hunting for food and struggling to survive. It eats up our cabin and swallows us whole. We are in the stomach of the storm and it doesn't seem to want to spit us out.
        The next morning when we awaken, the storm has slithered onto the next cabin in the woods. All that was left of it were mountainous snow drifts and glittering icicles lining our windows. The icicles shimmered and sparkled in the early morning rays of sun and the tips were starting to melt away, drip after drip falling to the snow covered ground below. They almost seemed angry, the left behind icicles, not able to be carried away with the storm and now that is forever moving. 

Joe Dunn '16

The sun slowly crept down behind the mountains in the distance. A hushed calm swept over the forest. Silence, a silence one would think of as unnatural in the world; no birds were singing, no crickets played their tunes, and no wind swept through the trees. It was as if in that moment, with the light of the sun waning, the world had frozen. The path ahead, twisted off into some unknowing future, with promise of new things to see and places to find. It was in that moment, in that silent moment, that the world began to seem so vast. I took one step at a time down the path. Turning the corner to what I could not see, seemed the obvious choice. In that moment however I chose to step off the path which others had tread. Sitting on a bench in the grass I watched the sun set and basked in the silence. It was this silence that pushed me to think about my future. I saw beyond the corner now, and the future I had just avoided led only to more twists and turns. I would return to it, undoubtedly, but taking my time to sit in a moment, one which was unique, was far more important than rushing into the future and wasting the time I had. Among the silence, the birds were watching from their high perches, the crickets sat still in the grass, and the trees stood like sentinels along the trail. It was in this silence, this hushed calm, that I was at ease, not looking ahead to the future, or recollecting the past, just enjoying now.