My late father-in-law transformed the way I see leafless trees. Before I met him, trees in wintertime seemed stark, depressing, cold, close to death.
My father-in-law loved to draw bare trees. In careful, intricate detail, he traced them, from the massive trunk to the graceful, delicate shapes of every branch and twig. Now when I go for a winter walk, as I did this morning, I am surrounded by beautiful, surprising sculptures, no two alike. It's like wandering through an open-air art gallery, populated by squirrels.
"You don't run down the present, pursue it with baited hooks and nets. You wait for it, empty-handed, and you are filled."
Pilgrim At Tinker Creek