January snow

Five nights before I flew to Miami, a deep wet snow fell and I awoke to a silent and white morning.  I pulled on my boots and stepped outside to investigate. 


Tall dark forms of the oaks towered above the understory and the snow highlighted the perfect form of the dogwood trees.

The driveway garden bent toward the pavement.  The long white border was dotted with terra cotta pots.  

The branches of virburnum near the street were swirled in white.  A plain black mailbox stood stiffly beneath.

Down the street, a group of pines that normally attracted no notice, were draped in white, like a bride on her special day.

In the back yard, the snow covered branches of the evergreen azaleas sheltered birds and rabbits.

Snow piled  deeply on the thick twigs of the red buckeye.  A fee-bee sound led me to a black capped chickadee hidden in the branches, his feathers  puffed, to insulate from the cold.

The pure pale beauty of this winter day was a contrast to the vibrant color and noise that I was to discover in Miami a few days later.