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10 December~2007
Another snow is moving in tonight. I watched it bend the cattails from north to my south, heard the first of the storm whistling through the slender stalks.
I dropped my dog's leash and let them track fresh scent in the the meadow, then followed them up the ridge, trying not to slip in the snow and ice. I hesitated at the top, looking down over the meadow and the cottonwood grove,
and thought how I love the cold and the night of winter, as much as the warmth and light of spring. The rhythm of winter has its own beauty, in the snowflakes that began sifting through the branches of the woodland ridge, in the cold, long, sacred December nights,
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(to see a 700 pixel wide image of the above collage, click here; for a 1400 pixel image of the above picture, click here.)