367: Winter Evergreen 🌲❄
Daily Image created using ChatGPT (Anime AI Art)
🌲 Winter Evergreen
The snow had started just after dawn, soft and steady. By the time Lena parked the forestry truck at the trailhead, the evergreens were already cloaked in white, their branches sagging under the weight. She zipped her jacket to her chin, grabbed the clipboard, and stepped into the hush. This section of the preserve hadn’t been surveyed since early autumn.
Her job was simple. To check stream flow, note any fallen trees, and confirm that the wildlife cameras are still operational. But Lena liked to take her time. The forest in winter felt different, less busy. She followed the narrow path along the stream, boots crunching through fresh powder. The water moved slowly, dark and clear, between snow-covered rocks.
A pair of deer tracks crossed the trail, veering toward the thickets. She paused, noting the direction, then moved on. At the first bend, she found the old cedar—split clean at the base, likely from last month’s windstorm. It hadn’t blocked the stream, but it would need clearing before the spring melt. She marked it on the clipboard.
The snowfall thickened. Lena pulled her hood up and kept walking. Then she crouched to check the camera strapped to a nearby pine. Still intact. Battery good. She flipped through the last few captures: a blurry fox, a raccoon, a lone elk. The forest grew denser here, trees packed close, their trunks black against the white.
She liked this part best. No cell signal. No voices. Just the rhythm of her breath and the occasional creak of settling snow. At the final checkpoint, she found something unexpected. A small cairn of stones beside the stream, half-buried in snow. Someone had been here recently. She brushed the snow away. Five stones, stacked with care, the top one etched faintly with a spiral.
She didn’t touch it. Just noted the location and took a photo. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe someone marking a memory, or a trail. Either way, it didn’t belong to the forest. Not yet. On the way back, the light began to shift from gray to silver. Lena stopped once more at the cedar, ran a hand along its bark, then turned toward the truck. Snow or not, she’d be back next week.
