Four o’clock sun across the lake remains cold to the skin, but warms and  softens the glint of still more lake effect powder.   When airy flakes fall without wind they drape the landscape and blur the fox’s footprints.   They hide the broken remains of successful hunts – feathers scattered from a daylight hawk’s raid and a pair of naked rabbit shins from  the red fox’s feast.   The ghostly evidence will soon emerge from a cemetery of melting drifts and blend quickly into the browns and fresh greens of promised Spring.