Imagine quiet. Cold cold quiet. It's broken with the rhythmic crunch of your footsteps over the icy yard. Stop and look at the small details. The frost on an oak leaf.
Ice sculptures on seeds.
A woodpile in the sun dripping with melted ice.
A cabin for gnomes built by your sister out of twigs, mud, and pine needles.
Breathe in gulps of frozen air. Breathe out clouds of steam.