The cold, frosty week has chilled me to the bone and got me thinking . . .
. . . how monochromatic the earth remains beyond naked tree limbs
before the rains come and the field grasses grow;
. . . how glad I don’t live in snow country
yet yearn to photograph the beauty it holds;
. . . how shrubs and trees store sugar all winter long
for hues shiny and sweet come springtime;
. . . how loud are icy grass blades when walked upon
or how musical are the drips of melting frost;
. . . how quiet and secluded squirrels remain,
and unproductive laying hens reside,
. . . how the effort to stay warm seems like combat;
. . . and how all living breeds navigate cycles through
slumber and wake.
In and Around the Garden 