This morning I took Lexi to a place we love to walk in the summer. I realized we had never been there in the winter. In summer, it is lush and vibrant and colorful and beautiful--echoing with birdsong and the rustling of little critters in the underbrush.
How different it looks in winter. It is stark and sparse and serene and still beautiful. The birds still sing there, but it doesn't sound so carefree now. There's a tone of earnestness--the search for those elusive berries of summer a little more intense.
Now I'm off to fill up my bird feeders.