Snow fell lightly in the night dusting the ground with a fresh white blanket. She took the dog for his morning romp and came to a raised walkway appearing to float like a magic carpet hovering above the surface of the snow-covered marsh. At the end of the pathway, snow-brushed birch branches formed a frilly arch over the gap in the trees leading into the woods. The portal beckoned her to follow. She hesitated. She wasn’t sure why the scene brought Mirkwood to mind. It wasn’t particularly gloomy. But something about it spoke of the Hobbit standing before the great forest dreading the dark unknown. She had an uncanny notion of elves in the trees. Putting aside her reservations, she stepped forward, the untrodden snow crunching beneath her boots. With the dog padding behind her, she headed across the marsh and entered a snowy white fairyland shrouded in mist. The subtle scent of sulfur filled the air. Vapor rising from the warm green water of the rock-bound pond had crystallized in the frigid night coating everything it touched with hoarfrost, every needle of the spindly evergreens, every branch and twig and curling tendril of aspen and birch, every stem and sprig of high bush cran- berry and clump of moss. She brushed the frost from the bench and took off her clothes and piled them there, then tiptoed over the frosty ground to sink into the lovely warmth. The dog lay watching her swim a gentle breaststroke sending quiet ripples across the water. She rolled onto her back and let her limbs float freely. The warm water caressed her skin. Feathery snowflakes twirling out of the sky melted away in the warm air rising from the pond. In her peaceful levitation the last residue of long buried dread and inner turmoil drifted away. (Out of the Dark: A Memoir)