Across the road from my house is a big open field. The people who own it keep it mowed all summer long. I am not sure why. The only people to ever use the field are my children and the extra kids at my house. The field is great for games of Ultimate Frisbee. In the warmer months the field is often filled with our teenagers running up and down, yelling at each other, and leaping to catch a frisbee.
In the winter months, the field is covered with sparkling snowdrifts. Or sometimes, after a warm winter day, when the temperatures go above freezing, the snow gets soft, and everything begins to melt, a sudden change in weather at dusk will cause a mist to spread across the field, a rolling translucent whiteness that transforms the ordinary field into something mysterious.