Like having a brick wall smashed over your head, it hits and I feel the weight of pieces crumbling around me. Like a wave of raging fury, I'm trenched from head to toe. Like taking a bullet to the chest, I'm stopped dead in my tracks. Anger is a powerful emotion. The worst of it comes quickly and unexpectedly, consuming me completely. The heat rises from my gut, into my chest, flushing my face. It takes an equally-shocking jolt for it to recede: the bitter wind of a freezing day.

Walking down the rocky gravel path, the wind nipped at my numbing cheeks and nose. In this moment I thanked myself for neither wearing my hair up nor getting it cut any shorter. Pulling my hood up over my head and stuffing my belongings - binos, pencil pouch and sketchbook - into various pockets, I tugged my sleeves over my fingertips and crunched my hands into fists. the sound of each footstep on the gravel seemed obnoxiously loud compared to the overwhelming silence of the wood. Broken only by the sound of leaves rustling in the wind and the occasional far-off bird call, the silence, a seeming friend of the cold, accompanied me to the stream.