Not far from home is a mountain. I go here to find snow in the winter when in front of my window there is rain. The dogs turn twisty and stuff their noses deep into the drifts between trees.
Yesterday, it hung in the air like dust and I inhaled the small flakes without trying. It lay like goose down and swirled with no weight when a wind came past.
And today, the snow came to us. And outside of our window it is that special quiet. We walked the streets as the sun rose somewhere behind the clouds and it diffused pink and pushed at the navy hue until they blended into grey. And still it snows and I can't take my eyes from the window.
This print new in the shop here.
The trains are always being filled. Midnight, I can hear the tracks and the lumber. Hard against hard. The workers eyes must be small against the cold night and the dark beside the water. And the rail ties bending and giving and not knowing what hour it is.
New landscape available here.