make bad art for the love of the game now!

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Snow

2026-03-15

Snow. It piles and it drifts and it swirls and gusts and flurrys. It's a hail of pricks on the face as the wind picks up, and a treat on the tongue as you breathe heavy from stomping through it. It's a pillow and a bed and a wall and a shelter. It's a soundless white void in the woods, or an unreadable static on the horizon. A delicious treat with maple syrup, a delightful surprise from a pot of boiling water thrown, a vanishing ball for a dog to catch. Snow. Beautiful and malleable and fleeting. I love it.