The joys, the noise - and the silence - of cross-country skiing
Stopping for a minute recently from our cross-country skiing in the middle of a snowy Black Forest and listening to the near silence - yes, really listening - was an exquisite experience that reminded me how seldom we get to enjoy the absence of noise. To me it felt strongly of the silence being a clean, fresh and eminently restful pillow for my ears and thence to my brain.
Of course, it was but a fleeting experience and of course we were soon scraping and poking, huffing and puffing, snow-squeaking and technical clothing rustling through the forest, but those few moments of silence, interspersed with the occasional thud of snow falling off the branches and even a timid soundbite of birdsong, provided me with memories that are far more powerful than the photos could ever reproduce.
Of course, it was but a fleeting experience and of course we were soon scraping and poking, huffing and puffing, snow-squeaking and technical clothing rustling through the forest, but those few moments of silence, interspersed with the occasional thud of snow falling off the branches and even a timid soundbite of birdsong, provided me with memories that are far more powerful than the photos could ever reproduce.
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