Winter Mountain

It is colder now.  February has lashed its wrath above the equator.  They call it the Snow Moon month because of the snows that follow.

The haze over the mountain isn't my camera.  It is also what my eye observes.  It is clearing now.  Peaks and valleys.  Gray, taupe and evergreen.  Cold.

The winter quiet soothes my soul. Flora and fauna are resting.  More solitude from last year's busyness.  Abundance.  It is where I find my inner resolve, too.

I love being at home.  In the beauty of simplicity.  Light streams in from every direction now.  Strong, angled rays.  The sun sets lower in the southern sky. We know snow can reflect 85-90% of the sun's ultraviolet rays.  It is a time to be observant of all that happens.  Thoughtful.

Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost