Winter around the Mystic.
Yesterday, the sky was an odd grayish-yellow, the snow fell thickly, covering the dormant tree branches and dead reeds with dustings of powdered sugar.
I love exploring familiar places when the seasons change: details one might not have picked up on before are highlighted. The senses seem shocked back to life and for a time, they skirt saturation.
Even winter is a fertile time if one is open enough to it.