Winter seemed to blow in overnight.  We got the porch furniture stored away in the barn and the Christmas lights up just in time; before the snow reminded us that the warm days are behind us for a while.  Or, are they ahead of us instead?  The seasons come and go in the blink of an eye, so one day soon I'll look out at my daffodils peeking up from the ground to see if spring has started to push back the winter.  And though I am a lover of the warmer days, and the riot of color and life that comes with them, it's time to settle in for a winter rest and become reacquainted with the contours of a land no longer hidden by summer's green veil.  It has settled in under a downy quilt of snow and gone to sleep for a while.  

Every whorl and twist of tree branches along my walking route stand out against the snow and gray skies.  My dog and I walk for miles through a gallery of sculptures, no two alike, happy to have remembered the camera.
There's something to be said for the silence of a winter day, and the wonder of a world suddenly glazed in white crystal.  We nearly got caught out after dark; our usual 4 mile hike made longer as we lingered.  It must have been how Robert Frost felt when he wrote one of my favorite poems.

Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost - 1923



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An image of a young boy wading in a shallow stream surrounded by moss-covered, sandstone cliffs