Twenty-four hours

Thursday morning.

Most of the autumn color has gone now, but this small pear tree, planted two falls ago, retains its bright leaves.

 The marsh is preparing for winter.  The grass is still green, although it has stopped growing.

In the afternoon, it began, the first snowfall of this winter.

The sky darkened and the snow fell;

great, splashing flakes that quickly covered the ground.

The ride home was white and wet and I was filled with wonder at the beauty of this fresh winter.

I must re-learn now to move a bit more slowly, to drive more carefully, to mind my steps and take my time.

There was a full moon in the night.

It cast its light on the snow-covered earth and woke me.

I burrowed beneath the covers and went peacefully back to sleep.

And, in the morning, this:

...and this:

 I love the snow.

It is a balm, a comfort, a quilt of crystal-white to cover a sleeping world as it rests and dreams, perhaps, of the coming spring.

It would be very easy to forget that winter can also be an enemy,

a predator,

a force with which to be reckoned.

Living where I do, I know that we must learn to work with winter, to prepare, to watch, to be aware of sudden changes in temperatures and conditions and even then, sometimes, humans lose their battle with the elements.

Even so, I love winter, and I cannot imagine living where it does not come in this way.