All the gnomes I know hate snow. Including me! We are more of a warm weather species. We quickly become impatient for the end of freezing weather so we can get back to our plants again.

We also worry about birds and animals over winter. Some of them are lucky and simply sleep the winter away, then awake cheerful and fresh when spring arrives. Most have to endure a rough winter or a long dangerous trek south to a warmer climate. I spend every winter concerned about all of them. I help where I can.

I get so dejected over the thought of snow that each winter Phyler has taken it upon herself to pull me out of my spiritual funk. Since fairies can transform themselves into any form they like, she transforms into a large, soft and warm white swan so she can take me on a cold weather flight.

Now that is a winter tradition I do enjoy. Although I don’t like being in snow, it turns out that I look forward to viewing a world covered in snow.

Riding on a large swan looking down on the frozen world from above is a magical experience. At least, it is once I’ve gotten through the process of buttoning my heavy cloak, tightening my scarves and mittens, settling onto Phyler’s temporary swan back, and balancing myself for the rise into the air. Once my attention settles and I look around, the view is spectacular.

We always take off from the open space in front of my stone hut and circle upwards. My small dwelling with its trickle of smoke coming from the chimney diminishes quickly as we rise upwards. The structure soon becomes impossible to distinguish among larger shapes in the glistening whiteness. My comfortable home is the base for my life in the Round Woods, so it’s a little alarming to see how quickly it disappears from sight.

The local small streams disappear quickly too. Larger creeks and rivers leading into Long Lake become thin silvery threads. Finally, even the lake itself becomes small. At its far end, the waterfalls racing toward the Infinite Ocean seem insignificant and tame.

The ocean, normally a half day’s walk distant, becomes visible as a flat horizon to the east. When I’m busy in the Round Woods, I seldom think about the huge expanse of water. Now the ocean is the largest feature around me.

Phyler turns north to fly toward our destination of the glacier fields high up in the Zodiac Mountains. These glaciers are not close, but Phyler covers the distance quickly.

From the air, the high mountains look like scenes from a gothic fairy tale. Twisted terrain and dramatic peaks are lofty reminders of Zelen’s geological past. The frequent fast-flowing, steep waterfalls rarely freeze over completely. Tumbling water sparkles and throws rainbow mists against layers of snow.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The high granite rocks are stunningly beautiful, but the sheer cliffs are unclimbable. The mountain spirits don’t like humanoids in their domain. They will decrease temperatures to bitterly cold and increase snowfalls to blizzards if they notice anyone trying to climb. Only eagles and mountain goats may pass to the highest peaks.

Phyler swoops down close enough to the high ledges for me to hear the waterfalls sing and to see sprays of water arc into the air. I get a good view of both sunny heights and shady wooded areas below me. The interplay of sun and shadow is mesmerizing as we fly. We are close enough for me to breathe in the fragrance of the pine forest, its sweet scent drifting high among the air currents.

The far north is an empty world over winter. Birds and animals are hibernating or have moved to warmer latitudes. Last year’s plants are dead and covered by snow, or sometimes show as misshapen and fantastic snow-covered lumps.

We fly further north to see the extreme edge of the tree line and the small evergreens surviving there. They are exquisite in their intricate wind-blasted outlines.

We continue even further north, all the way to the Northern Pole and its glaciers.

The peaks are magnificent. Stark, harsh lines of snow and ice against sharp rocky cliffs are on full display. This is where the highest glaciers start and transform into slow rivers of ice. The water often flows into surprise pockets of alpine lakes.

Every lake has its own distinct green or blue color due to the specific mix of mineral dust flowing into it. Large chunks of ice float on the surfaces of the open water. I always shiver as we pass the frigid scenery.

Occasional small waterfalls spill over the precipices. Plumes of water plunge straight down into basins so deep we can’t even see their edges.

The northern mountains are called the Zodiac Mountains because they have such a beautiful view of the northern lights and major constellations. However, it’s too cold to linger once the sun starts to set, so we head back.

Transporting here at night for a quick half hour of viewing summits and stars before heading back to a warm fireplace is spectacular. The experience is dramatic but not as profound as today’s all-day flight.

The steady beat of Phyler’s powerful swan wings moving through the air is hypnotic, helping me relax into the rhythm of our long journey home. I pull my scarves closer to keep cold winds from my face. I concentrate on the sensations of my chilly ride so I can take the recollection of such intense harmony with midwinter back to my everyday life. The memory will sustain me until the warmer breezes of spring.

The far north’s quiet soothes my soul. I enjoy being at a place so isolated that there are no other beings to nudge my consciousness. I would have to orbit around the planet to find a less populated area.

I would never venture away from the Round Woods to see these glorious sights on my own. I am grateful to Phyler for carrying me away from my cozy hearth to enjoy the peacefulness of Zelen’s northern climate. I need this day in the icy wilderness to give me a new appreciation of my warm and domesticated life.

As Phyler returns me safely to the earth, I feel rejuvenated. My usual winter activities of checking animals, planning spring gardens, and carving wooden items now seems bearable again. I can tolerate the wait for springtime just a little bit longer.