"Winter's Coming"

As the summer sun starts to fracture over the late day horizon, the fields that were once green are caught between the end of fall and the morning mists that settle on the mountains.

The farmers gather up the remaining bales of hay just before the first flakes of winter dust the tire tracks left behind looking like lazy drunken circles over the fields.

The burdocks look like old men without their hats on as they stand straight against the harsh winds, gathering snowflakes on their bald heads

And soon the clouds come, throwing their crystals around that pile up around the house and trees, blanketing the world in white.

It is a glorious time on the mountain as I wait for spring, again.