Winter’s wind latches onto my lungs, crisp pure snow clung onto contrasting emerald pines, the sun shining white behind monstrous clouds. Canada’s pure woods stand tall on snow-capped mountains. Josh is in front of me, effortlessly climbing the mountainous slope. It’s my first day in Canada and he’s making me hike, but all I want to do is to go a warm place and sleep. He however promises to show me something special which is apparently on top of this steady, uneven hill. Slowly as I go, with Jack Frost freezing my head, fingers and nose, we arrive at the ‘special’ destination. On top of the hill, it’s like a reincarnation of Narnia with dense pine trees draped in ice and a pathway of soft, silent snow beneath us. I never want to leave this place, but as time goes, the ice will melt and will become a tirade of glacial water pouring down the mountains like streaming tears, and this wonderland will once more be a place pined with trees patiently waiting for winter’s frost to arrive once more.