The leaves are long gone and the trees stand naked. They are not embarrassed by it. The trees show off their strong trunks and elaborate branches, the graphics of an incredible artist. The shapes and silhouettes vary: ovals, spades, and semicircles, narrow and wide.
The winter air is clean. Some days are gloomy grey but occasionally the sun comes out, even in Pennsylvania. An hour before sunset, the anonymous artist sprays warm peach over the pale blue sky. The golden shadows dance across roofs, playing catch up with the birds. The brightness of the air, unfiltered by the leaves or grass, blinds you.
The winter sun is rare and thus not taken for granted. It comes to illuminate the truth, the bare trees, the houses and the people in them. It’s a restful time but don’t fool yourself: Nature is contemplating its next masterpiece.