I like the trees in winter..
.. when their bones are exposed and shivering in the wind. But if you look closely, the buds of Spring are there waiting..
I'm reminded of a line from Pink Floyd's "Time"..
"No one told you when to run - you missed the starting gun"
Spring starts quietly, and it does it in the heart of winter. The birds are already preparing for spring. I hear the hawks calling from the treetops to one another. The mockingbirds are already in stealth mode, building nests in hidden places. This cold weather forces mates to huddle for warmth, which leads to spring bunnies and chicks and for us, babies in the fall.
I guess there's something about the quiet solitude of winter that makes us all want to fill it with life.
I like the trees in winter..
.. when their bones are exposed and shivering in the wind. But if you look closely, the buds of Spring are there waiting..
I'm reminded of a line from Pink Floyd's "Time"..
"No one told you when to run - you missed the starting gun"
Spring starts quietly, and it does it in the heart of winter. The birds are already preparing for spring. I hear the hawks calling from the treetops to one another. The mockingbirds are already in stealth mode, building nests in hidden places. This cold weather forces mates to huddle for warmth, which leads to spring bunnies and chicks and for us, babies in the fall.
I guess there's something about the quiet solitude of winter that makes us all want to fill it with life.