Autumn 03 | Wednesday, 26 Oct (am)

The weather came as predicted. It is heavy snow. The bushes and branches bow and break. I hear them give through the bright nights trickling silence.

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I can’t sleep at 3 am. The trees are in kindred agony.
The leaves had not yet finished their death.
They are ill prepared for heavy snow, yet…
the bare branches also bend and sway.
They break under the burden of the wet, heavy snow.
Breezes provide temporary relief to those with unfallen leaves. Their expression is pain and sorrow. They weep.
Many have given. The torn limbs are scattered about the yard,
in the street, across the car. The storm creates a war zone in its wake. It will continue through the morning hours.
.. and just yesterday and the day before it was Indian Summer.

still snowing. I keep taking pictures.
It’s a progression from the beginning of the storm til now.
well, actually it’s more like the middle of it, probably.. not over yet.
the yard is filling with tree limbs
this nature yields to a tragically serene melancholy sadness

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