Winter's eye

has it's sight on frost, swirling snow, snapping branches.  This I know intimately yet choose to live in a place where winter is green-hilled.  Here, there may be frost but it's not the norm.  The icy cold does not linger.  Yet, the heavy morning sweater with its cozy collar is welcomed.  

 

Spring may be all about color but....

 there remains a stillness, a hush, a calmness to blooming.  Almost as if the magnolia where painted with snow.