Nothing much happening here.
A gentle balayage washes pale pink across the subdued blue-gray sky... untidy remnants of dried leaves that haven’t had the good sense to fall and branches hanging about cluttering up the scenery. This is January.
“All the complicated details of the attiring and disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among the long branches. Thus having prepared their buds against a sure winter the wise trees stand sleeping in the cold”
William Carlos Williams
Back behind the snowfield, in front of the far treeline, my favorite wetland lies slumbering, not calling attention to itself. Unnoticeable. Inconspicuous. Wisely prepared against this sure winter.
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