Before sunlight can touch the stubbled corn field, it blushes the bush.
A wonderful visual expression of graceful, languid movement.
It does not, cannot, whine and whinge and moan about never-ending winter, where is spring? It waits. Spring will come. It will arrive when it arrives. Accept what is.
A lesson to embrace.
A most marvellous hoarfrost occurred overnight. Among many other acts of grace it performed, it turned the commonplace – in this case, a clothespin and clothesline – into beautiful works of art.
A windmill and the bush behind are graced with a cloak of white, courtesy of a late morning snowfall.
Snow, collecting on the roof of our shed.
This tree stands, living through snow, rain, cold, heat, anything and everything thrown at it. It doesn’t rail against, revile, complain about, whine about the onslaught. Life is what it is, to be accepted and dealt with.