When fog hangs in the air overnight and temps drop below freezing, one wakes to a soft kind of beauty not normally seen during the day. This tree wears a frosty coat much like the rest of the landscape; however, the tree's branches are weighed down more heavily than the limber grasses that continue to blow and bounce with the gentlest of breezes.
This picture speaks to me of abandonment: the old forgotten drainage ditch pipe, the tangle of broken branches, the gentle dip of the grasses all exude a quiet sort of loneliness. Taken behind my dad's shop, this scene is even tucked away from the regular views of the farm.
Delicate white whiskers frozen along the planks of the corral bring moisture to light in a new form; certainly, everything about the world is viewed in a different light on this morning of enchantment.
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