Winter

There is nothing quite like winter in Montana.  Each change in weather is like a mood swing, each revealing a little more of the personality of the season.   

Some nights the snow falls: thickly, silently drifting to earth.  Sound pollution, never much, is deadened to almost nothing.  Everything is silent and still.  The ambient light is increased as the cloud cover and each individual flake reflect back everything they catch.  The reddish glow and stillness make one feel small and alone and glad to have a cozy fire to snuggle up to inside.  

Occasionally the winter displays a streak of perversity (and sometimes artistry), contriving to fight against gravity and other held conventions to create unique and bizarre structures of ice and snow (like this inverted ice-cycle).

Though one would imagine the color palate would be more limited in the winter with the pervasive whiteness, in reality the white often serves as a palate where all the colors of the rainbow can dance and play in ways not seen in other seasons.  

After days of clouds and snow, the sun rose this morning on a sparkling winter wonderland.  With the temperature hovering around zero (Farenheit), the air was crisp and clear.  The frost clung to the trees with determined tenacity, causing them to light up and twinkle when the sun hit them. 

Later in the afternoon specks of pixy dust chased each other through the air, glittering and sparkling, making the world seem like a living snow globe.

 The pictures, of course, do not do justice to the sparkling splendor of the air, but you can catch a glimpse of the sparkles, especially in the shaded places.

A glorious but capricious mistress is winter, clothed in splendor one minute, trying to freeze the life out of everything the next.  Beautiful and terrible - but much less terrible with a warm fire, a cup of hot chocolate, and a good book.