Art? Very Rarely
How boring to live in a place where there is no snow. People of the north appreciate the weather they are given because it changes so quickly. How precious summer is because it is so fleeting. How bright the fragrance of spring. How melancholy and scarlet is the fall. To stand outside on a muted, muffled, snowy afternoon, with your eyes closed, and hear the soft, fat flakes falling, is to re-live the hopeful possibilities of childhood. No wonder you are happy. The sky is gray here, the temperature is right, and soon the snow will fall here, as well. I can scarcely wait.
Very nicely put, Cathy. I couldn't agree more.
Your mountain scene is beautiful. Reminds me of Ansel Adams' work. You just don't get that kind of beauty on a sunny day.