In winter, the bones of things are exposed. Trees without leaves, fields without crops, stark and foreboding. It looks drab and dreary and uninviting. I love walking out into it. I love wrapping up warm and stepping into what seems inhospitable - dull at best; demanding and scary cold at worst. I love the crunch of the frozen ground under my feet. I love the texture of the different fallen things lying askew on the path. I love the monochrome shades that come alive only if you are out there in it. Through a window, from a car, it can demoralize. Crunching along, wrapped in the crisp air, seeing the occasional flash of bright blue jay or red cardinal with the crazy shapes and shades, it invigorates. I love to find beauty outside this time of year. It's far less abundant than in the extravagant times, but it is good. So good.
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