Walking in snow yesterday, the trail covered by three inches of white that fell the night before last. It squeaked under my boots. It fell in little plops from the tree branches. The air was very quiet.
Seeing red huckleberry leaves reminded me of Winslow Homer’s painting The Fox Hunt. www.pafa.org/Museum/The-Collection/View-All-Works/Large-image/91/let__H/artistId__2549/colId__6462/
Looking closer at this painting, I see a story. It doesn’t look good for the fox. Winter can be like that.