The snow is light and fluffy, the kind that has weight only in accumulation. I can hear it landing, each flake announcing itself against the leftover leaves still clinging to the old oaks and maples. It is, improbably, a sound.   I came out here for silence. The world has gotten loud again, as it does, for reasons that dissolve under examination. And I find it, or rather, it finds me. Only the occasional breath of wind, and beneath that, the dry scratch of snowflakes settling into the duff. That is all. That is enough.   I pay close attention. A few winters ago, in [...]