New Day, New Way A Blogophilia Write
Walking across the backyard I stopped at the edge of the Wood. Winter has never been my favorite time of year, the Wood held that cold, naked look. Without the covering of leaves I could easily see among the trees. The hillside was littered with fallen branches and small, dead trees. A cold wind danced among the pines and what few leaves, brittle and brown, that still clung to the trees.…


















