My sense of the real, the nature of things, is the same as my sense of the natural. And my sense of the natural is linked to my sense of our/my spirit and soul, beauty. That is the beauty within us that shines throughout our spirit and our soul.
The mind that is stretched to a new idea never returns to its original dimension. Oliver Wendell Holmes
The air is very thin in winter. Moisture frozen to
pines and maples. Cool ice colors cover, white greens and brown. Where not so long ago trees were covered with warm color.
A single coppery brown oak leaf shivers in the breeze.
Winter has a different kind of stillness. Sitting quietly in winter.
