fine-powdered

Updated: June 18, 2025

Again come the strange howls of the animal world, but they sound more distant and the echoes are muffled, for those who cry out have sought the woodland shelter, where the mountain breath exhausts itself against the countless legions of the pines. Ere the shriek has died out, another blast comes, down the mountainside, and up rises the fine-powdered snow like a thin fog.

Ridgwell Cullum - In the Brooding Wild