Before it all turns golden to brown, I've been wallowing in the shades of greens, muted and murky, bright and washed. In the depth of winter, I know my eyes will crave something verdant, mouthwateringly so.
In the depths of winter, the ravine will feel like a forbidden place, dark and skulking, slippery and shy. But now it's still lush, soft underfoot, rustling and friendly, variegated in greens. From floor to canopy I drink them in.
Art by: Forest Floor by Eamon MacMahon from Bau-Xi
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Art by: East from Birch Mountain from Bau-Xi