Haze and hoarfrost. Perched atop the dying branches like icy butterflies come to harvest the life from the forest, snow gently blankets the landscape. Clinging to the trees as the trees cling to the mountainside, the white noise conceals all the flaws in the system. The longer you look, the less unified the scene becomes as you notice details outside of the homogony: branches peeking out from the blanket, crooked tops of taller trees as the weight of the snow tugs them to one side... gaps in the perfect rows of winter charm and the way the shorter trees are shielded from the heaviest snowfall by the taller ones. The static is what we assume. The details are what we come to learn.