What a winter it has been. Much like everywhere else we’ve had more snow, more wind, more sub-zero temperatures. The girls… well they pretty much take everything in stride… as long as the hay arrives in a timely manner. And the snow, well it does make for pretty picture taking.
A simple, special extraordinary moment.
A moment to pause, savor and remember.
Participating with the SouleMama blog
joining The View From Right Here for Weekly Top Shot
response for week 11 of the solstice to solstice project
with urban.prairie.forest.
flickr pool
Snowflakes
Out of the bosom of the Air.
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent and soft and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
