Winter descends. Previously we had snow only 2000 meters elevation and above. Last night, I fell asleep listening to the slow and peaceful pitter patter of rain falling softly on the roof. I woke up this morning to find the snow had snuck down to 700 meters elevation.

After this tree’s branches and trunk have built barns, built and heated homes, the remnants have become the nourishment for how many other living entities? Everything gets eaten in the end.

Frost bite, frost burn, yet there is some beauty in this image. Is there a lesson to be learned?

The frost is not the end but a tell that the end is near. In the background, the babbling brook runs away from that truth.