1: even the thistles get moss in Oregon;
2: a winter kind of beauty;
3: every walk must include a light saber duel.
"In winter we have no love affair with Nature, just a passing friendship, respect, appreciation. We each go our separate, unrelated ways with a good stout wall between us..." ~ Jean Hersey: The Shape of a Year
How I need winter and its depravations. For three or four months a year, I learn to be hungry for beauty, for life again. And though I am an inside kind of creature, I force myself outside to hunt a different sort of loveliness, things that require a finer tuning of the senses. Without fail, I find it.