Living snow

We have stopped again for the night, and I hear music. One of the boys managed to spirit a violin along with him, and he's playing something Irish and singing. 

Whilst marching this morning, I noticed along the path a set of small tracks, probably left by some rodent. I realized that snow is unique in that it records the presence of those who walk upon it. Unlike rain, it bears witness to the life passing before it, and it tells a story, for the time it is here. Then it melts away, and with it the evidence of those who've touched it.