Winter’s touch is plain to see.  Its long fingers twist through our neighborhoods, and down our streets.  Framing our daily lives with organic beauty, asymmetry.  Reaching into us like the cold air.  You feel the coldness like you see it in the trees. What some people see as death is really nature’s rest, its retreat.  Wrapping, engulfing moving through everything swallowing it up whole.   Stripped down to the bare canvas beauty in its purest form- the winter.