. . . I encountered many a blustering and nipping wind, for nowhere has it freer play; and when the frost had smitten me on one cheek, heathen as I was, I turned to it the other also.
– from “Walden” by Henry David Thoreau
There is a time, between two seasons, when eternity is captured.
The passage of time becomes tangible as scatterings of brittle, dry leaves cling desperately to bare branches under the threat of low-hanging clouds.
But before the landscape is transformed into waves of iridescent blues and whites, the Earth sheds her cloak of reds and oranges, leaving her in the act of undress – exposed and vulnerable.
In this brief moment, the ethereal charm of nature is most obvious.