The leading edge of winter

We spent the weekend in Cricket Flats. The land, freshly minted, as white as the aspens, signaled winter. Colm let his first snowball fly to mark the occasion. It hung against the pale blue sky,incongruous, like a UFO.



Winds blew the snow so hard the first night that the next day the trees looked like they were laminated on one side. Ice on the pond, just thick enough to sling, just thin enough to skim shards clear across without breaking through. The morning sun cut across the land, it's long, golden fingers combing the leading edge of winter.
K