in the quivering forest

Twas ever so sunny yesterday morning. My Swede, Pappa Swede and I went down to the forest. We went our separate ways. Mathias ran, Pappa Swede walked at a steady pace and I ambled peacefully at the pace of a snail on a Sunday. It was a treat. Everything was sprinkled with snowflakes. I took photographs of what my eyes beheld and marvelled at the beauty of it all. I saw pie cones floating in frozen puddles and puddles that had been shattered by my feet and by others. I saw snow capped mushrooms and sprouting stems trying their very best to reach the sunlight that was slipping through silhouettes that were standing tall. Taller than the trolls that I'm sure were hiding in the shadows, watching my every move. And the ghosts of Vikings passed whose ships once sailed in the sea I saw just beyond the trees I'm sure were doing the same...