Without snowcover, we easily warm up into the 40s. The earth is most definitely not
dead. It’s in hibernation, still breathing slowly, odors of mushrooms and leaf mould and dirt on its breath.

You only notice it close to the ground. The smells swirl about you in shallow depressions, sheltered from the wind, but they are dispelled in open air just a few steps away. You’re never quite sure it was there, like trying to remember a dream in the bright light of day.

This must be what it smells like under snow.