Snow Globe
The snow-globe is large, but not too large for small hands, and not too heavy. Just large enough and hefty enough to feel real, without being cumbersome of unweildy. The glass is so thin as to be barely tangible, and so close to transparent it only seems to be there when the light hits it at the right angle.
Inside, it is snowing. Not a few flakes of glitter swirling for a scant minute above a plastic landscape, but true snow. Minute, barely visible snowflakes falling over a perfect miniature world. There is a tiny forest around the back and sides of the globe, with a clearing at it's center, and the trees are moving, ever so slightly, in a wind that isn't really there. If you look at the right angle there are even mountains in the background.
The fir trees are the darkest green, and their trunks almost black while the shadows in between are them the sheerest of black. The green-block-white is broken only by the almost painful red of scattered berries on the holly bushes that peep here and there.
Tiny snow drops and crocuses grow out of the snow at the edges of the clearing, and every now and then an animal will make itself visible. Deer slip through the trees at the edge of the clearing, one majestic stag flanked by two delicate does. A family of wolves sometimes comes into the opsn space to play, three adults and four tiny, rotund, wobbly puppies that roll each other over and over in the snow. A family of rabbits has a warren just inside the trees, and are daring in their ambushes on each other. They are wary of the arctic fox that often watches them across the glade. There are even birds in the sky. Terns and gulls wheel above the trees, and in the evening, the ghostly form of a snowy owl glides silently, casting a black shadow.
Above all, curling in it's eternal stately dance, is the aurora borealis, the forever shifting radiance of the northern lights.
Inside, it is snowing. Not a few flakes of glitter swirling for a scant minute above a plastic landscape, but true snow. Minute, barely visible snowflakes falling over a perfect miniature world. There is a tiny forest around the back and sides of the globe, with a clearing at it's center, and the trees are moving, ever so slightly, in a wind that isn't really there. If you look at the right angle there are even mountains in the background.
The fir trees are the darkest green, and their trunks almost black while the shadows in between are them the sheerest of black. The green-block-white is broken only by the almost painful red of scattered berries on the holly bushes that peep here and there.
Tiny snow drops and crocuses grow out of the snow at the edges of the clearing, and every now and then an animal will make itself visible. Deer slip through the trees at the edge of the clearing, one majestic stag flanked by two delicate does. A family of wolves sometimes comes into the opsn space to play, three adults and four tiny, rotund, wobbly puppies that roll each other over and over in the snow. A family of rabbits has a warren just inside the trees, and are daring in their ambushes on each other. They are wary of the arctic fox that often watches them across the glade. There are even birds in the sky. Terns and gulls wheel above the trees, and in the evening, the ghostly form of a snowy owl glides silently, casting a black shadow.
Above all, curling in it's eternal stately dance, is the aurora borealis, the forever shifting radiance of the northern lights.