Elkhorn Creek, Winter

The air feels as cold as the water probably is as it crashes over the little falls, mist everywhere, hanging. The sun finally abandons scenes like this, though low light filters through. Following the flow of the creek, I feel like I’m walking on the earth, part of it, like the moving water, the trees,…

Winter Pond

The ducks are of two minds. I’m a bother, but I am something to yell at. Some jump to the ice. At dusk, the ducks might as well be ice. Winter pastels fade into brilliant blues and reds that spread from the horizon across the pond, the field, the day. “Those ducks . . ….