I follow an excessive amount of flower growers on Instagram and even now most of the content is beautiful arm-fulls of cut-flowers from previous summers and love letters yearning for the beauty of July. As an aspiring flower farmer I agree the allure of summer is unmatched, but I feel like the simple delicacy of winter isn't getting the credit it deserves. It's as if the white, snow enveloped landscapes allow an undistracted look at the structure of the land. A veil has dropped and suddenly you see things you didn't know were standing in within your view. Naked, stripped down, and bare. I can see every footprint a fox has made and every birch tree the porcupine has left uncovered of bark. An old tree fort typically hidden by leaves and barbed wire from a farmyard long overgrown. The structure that supports the growth of summer pokes through. Summer will come and bring its own awe, but for now I am enjoying photographing winters simplistic, snow-covered beauty. Not waiting and wanting, but living and appreciating.