Frost edges the fallen oak and sycamore leaves in the early morning. Some are like Christmas cookies—gingerbread men with a dusting of confectioner's sugar. The redbud tree has dropped all its heart-shaped leaves and is draped now with seed pods that will eventually drop tiny black seeds after the winds of winter sufficiently weather their... Continue Reading →
Foggy Farm Morning
Fog does not come on little cat feet here.
Winter Wind on the Prairie
Wind is the voice and the song of the prairie.