Parry Sound

The first snow fall of the year, flakes descend as gently as they are a reminder of imminent cold. But it is nice though; the car a block down McMillan, the first to sleuth along snow settled avenues, makes fresh tracks and no sound. Until well traveled upon, everything is muted. Noise pollution is refrained and awe is not inspired, rather unavoidable. Audibility is dampened, entirely, excluding only the pitter-patter. And for the first time in a long time you feel aware.