It was early winter and the temperature had dropped to below freezing. The trees were laden with snow, their branches bowed and bare, and the landscape was ghostly silent. Peter had just arrived at his favorite camping spot, a secluded lake deep in the forest. He had been here every winter for the past few years, and had made some memories that he would never forget.

He quickly unpacked his gear, setting up his Bereg tent and building a fire pit. He had brought a wood stove to keep himself and his tent warm, but was prepared to brave the cold, a midnight campfire burned hot and the nights were spent in the sweet hush of winter.

It was a magical place, the lake was still and the stars were bright and a full moon shone light across the ice reflecting above the surface. It seemed as though nothing else mattered in that moment, he knew that he was in a special place.

He spent two days alone in his camp, exploring the area, fishing and even doing some light snowshoeing. He collected wood for the wood stove and made sure his wood supply stayed full for the night’s chill.

On the third day, a big snowstorm rolled in, covering everything in an eerie white blanket. The snow was thick, and with it came the silence, the lake was completely snow-covered and the trees were blanketed in white. It was as if the world had been put on pause.

Peter sat in his tent and read, he cooked his dinner on his wood stove and watched the snowflakes dance in the night air. The beauty of this place had stayed with him, and it was hard not to be moved by it.

When the storm eventually cleared, Peter was left with a newfound appreciation for the beauty winter can bring. He packed up his gear and wished himself fairwell, promising to come back again the following winter. He could hardly wait.