We are weary of winter.

We are weary of being bound in ice; we long for open water.

We are weary of frigid temperatures and gray gloomy days; we long for the warmth of the sun.

We are weary of endless nuisance snows, freezing rain and ice; we long for grass and green leaves.

So weary of winter are we, when at last we get a real snowstorm, our only thought is – Please, GO AWAY!

Still the snow falls softly and steadily throughout the day, coating every branch and bud in a frosting of white.

Soon we have other thoughts.

Look at how beautiful it is! How quiet and peaceful.

Weariness cast aside, we long to be out among the snowflakes, forging new paths across the virgin whiteness.

We are alone with a camera in a small hushed world of wonder.

We see how ordinary things are transformed by winter’s touch.

We admire the delicacy of a seed pod, and the oddity of a horseshoe crab, when each is cast in snow.

We remember that the fox is glad of the ice and the snow that give him easy passage where on warmer days he would have wet feet.

We marvel at the strange forms of the ice blocks tossed up along the bay.

All too soon, the fingers grow numb and the wonder fades.

We long anew for days of warmth and sun and the sweet laughter of little girls at play.

We long for days when we will not be winter weary.