Shaped and shadowed in snow at Sly Park Lake.
Looking ahead … uncharted … untracked … the possibilities are what we make of them.
The old branches shrouded the stump, looking like wings of snow. Almost angelic to the bunnies or birds that could have hidden beneath, protected from cold or predators.
“Who has wrapped up the waters as a cloak?”
“He spreads the snow like wool and scatters the frost like ashes.”
The week before, the trail was clear, and the aspen leaves blocked the sky overhead. What a change a bomb cyclone has made. This day, the snow was 8 to 12 inches deep, and golden leaves dotted the crystalline carpet.
and of the sky over the neighborhood meadow. From this perspective, the grass is as tall as the cottonwood tree.
Early evidence of warmer days grows between a rock and a hard freeze.
Outdoor dining at Winnemucca Lake, Round Top Mountain ahead
For every bark, there is a season.
“a season for every activity under the heavens: … a time to uproot …
… a time to tear down …
… a time to scatter …
… a time to embrace … and a time for peace.”
Serenity on ice … socially distanced … frozen and docked … and the skaters still skate.
After the bloom … before deep winter … red-gold leaves on December’s flowering pear tree. “For every thing, there is a season ….”
For unto us a child is born … the government will be on his shoulders. And he shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Whatever is true and pure … focus there … and give thanks.
At the top of the world, little grows in the dead of winter … and yet the sun brings forth hope.
Yosemite’s June surprise . . . overnight snow lingers on Mount Hoffman. As seen through retreating fog from Glacier Point.
Colors of summer
Letting the fall flags fly