I’ve always loved the way nature looks in winter. The dried cracked leaves, the withered trees, the rain swollen clouds lumbering across the sky… A lot of people I know don’t like winter for those reasons. Nature is dead and to them it’s hideous. To me it’s breathtaking. As withered, cracked, decayed, and uninviting as they are in winter trees will always be my favorite. Even seemingly near death, in the of harsh dilapidating winter months, trees refuse to be brought down. Their leaves have abandoned them, humans no longer seek them for shade, but, instead cut them down to burn them up, all their knots and weak branches now exposed; yet still they stand. They still reach toward the heavens and follow the sun. In the worst months of their lives, trees still find a reason to be. They know who they are and where they stand, they know from where they get their strength, they know that winter will not last. Rain and snow and sleet and hail, come what may, they’ll make it through. Even in tornadoes and hurricanes, if they get torn from the ground, they’ve dropped seeds that ensure they will continue. I’d love to live among the trees for a little bit, just to see if i can borrow a bit of their hope and resilience. Until then, I will sit here by the window, watch the rain, and drink a cup or two of hot chocolate and admire the trees swaying and dancing among the wind and rain.