random observations

In the still silence of winter at its best.


A frost welcomed the morning, after an evening of dense fog.


Each little branch, blade of poking grass, leaf, and berry covered in a coating of white.


Not a sound to be heard, but the crunching snow beneath my feet.


Then, at random, my mind drifts into thinking "don't the branches look like pipe cleaners?"

How I love the wonders of winter and those quiet moments of listening to the mind as it explores.