There's a certain stillness about winter that starts to creep in right around February, a quite time that is necessary before the buzz of March and April. A proverbial calm before the storm - but a good storm, full of greenery and flowers and bird song and hope. Yes, we still need to rest some more before making that push toward vernal bliss. In that resting, I contemplate, looking at the bleak landscape, seeing it for textures, knowing it will become fertile soon enough.
For now, the landscape must rest, laying in the peaceful repose of dormancy. She is waiting, too.
