JANUARY 5—The first morning of the first deep snowfall of the winter I walked up Ashpohtag Road to our beloved beaver dam, mindful of little but the bitter wind. Pausing for long minutes at the edge of the frozen pond—mind quiet, thoughts momentarily stilled—my eyes attuned slowly to the subtlety of the snowy world in which I stood. It was then, as I turned homeward, I saw in all the fragile weeds and naked winter branches an exquisite artistry. The singular conditions—overcast, minimal shadows, pristine snow—created a perfect canvas for the fine lines, delicate gestures, and tangled relationships so unusually and nakedly visible. Eight of the photos offered here were taken that morning. Those bracketing this winter contemplation were captured the following day, when light was again in play—a tangible if always ephemeral presence in nature’s design.
Thank you, Cara, for helping me penetrate the cold, bitterness of winter with such poignancy.