The sky is a blanket of gun mental grey, the wind is barely there. Tinted by frost the yellow and burnt oranges of the grasses are more grey than gold. The trees are leafless. No sunlight shines and no shadows are cast.
The landscape of prairie stretching outward under the flat sky is beautifully composed with an opulent silence. No sound is being made and yet every sound is being heard. The trail for one leading onward is alluring. The dogs and I walk long and deep because it is what the morning calls for. And with the walking perspectives are realigned and purposes are recharged.