Rounding the last bend and approaching the rented cabin, you saw it from the corner of your eye. But the incoming storm delayed any impromptu plans of exploration, and you settled into an evening of collecting wood, stoking the fire, and shoveling the walkway. Before bed you discovered a book about covered bridges, and beside the woodstove turning page after page, you dreamt of new adventures and slowly fell to slumber. With dawns arrival, as the snow event headed north, before your family rose, you slipped quietly into your thermals, donned an old knitted hat, zipped up your weather-proof jacket and stepped into your grandfather’s old-fashioned snowshoes. Choosing a winding path through the back woods, you shuffled silently through knee high powder, catching a glimpse of your destination here and there, listening to the running of the river so crisp and fluid. Nestling through the last thicket of white birch you found a clearing, looked up, and there it was unveiled, untouched. In this beautiful season as morning was breaking, with only the silence of the woods, you would be the first to cross the covered bridge and the legendary river beneath it. - This paragraph is printed on the back of the card