❄️ Winter
Winter strips everything back to its structure. The textures of bare branches, seed heads dusted with frost, the rustle of sparrows in dormant shrubs—beauty is still here, just wearing quieter clothes. It’s the season of stillness,
but never stagnation. Beneath the frozen surface, roots are resting, soil is breathing, and next season’s story is already being written.
can you hear me now
adore the cold. There I said it. The blue sky, the chill that obliterates the skin heaving a blow straight to the bones. I find it refreshing. While it takes twice as long to get out the door and remember to cover all exposed extremities, the effort yields a peace in frozen air.