FOR ALL OF THE TIMES I’ve spurned this winter of brutal cold and deep snow, I must confess to a certain appreciation for the poetic dreaminess of a snowy rural landscape.
Winter exposes, uncovers, bares the basics to the eyes in a way that the fullness of summer cannot.
Power lines and roads cut horizontal swaths. Farm sites beckon like a welcome oasis in a sea of white. Bare-branched trees flag the sky.
A red barn seems redder, a steely grey bin greyer. And a white farmhouse simply vanishes.
This is winter. Spurned. And, sometimes, loved.
© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling