Winter’s secret.

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For everything there is a season.

Winter is a time the land rests from its giving, when it withdraws in contemplation. Spring and summer are times of labour, of productivity, autumn of harvesting, but in late autumn and winter the leaves fall, there’s an emptiness in the air.

It’s all still there, hidden down under the earth it remains alive, but trees stand empty, unadorned showing their strength.

winter ride

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frosted nettle

I glance at silvered leaves, blades of grass transformed from placid domesticity to jeweled art forms. Beauty lingers before my eyes as I pause on my bike ride home, taking off gloves to blow feeling back into numbed fingers.
Winter has come in its beauty and pain.