The theme of this week’s photo challenge is Changing Seasons as hosted by the folks at The Daily Post at WordPress. When I read the theme, I was instantly reminded of the time when we traveled from Brentwood, California to Lake Tahoe and we could visibly see the changing of the seasons as the green trees gradually become powdered with snow until the entire place looks like Winter Wonderland. We enjoyed the seemingly-magical transformation of our surroundings. Hope you enjoy the turning color of the leaves in these photographs.
On our Way to Lake Tahoe and Winter Wonderland
“The snow doesn’t give a soft white damn whom it touches.”
― E.E. Cummings
“With luck, it might even snow for us.”
― Haruki Murakami, After Dark
“A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones
“Well, I know now. I know a little more how much a simple thing like a snowfall can mean to a person”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
“A wet autumn morning, a garbage truck clattering down the street. The first snowfall of the season, blossom sized flakes falling languidly and melting on the ground, a premature snow fall delicate as lace, rapidly melting.”
― Joyce Carol Oates
“A small and sinister snow seems to be coming down relentlessly at present. The radio says it is eventually going to be sleet and rain, but I don’t think so; I think it is just going to go on and on, coming down, until the whole world…etc. It has that look.”
― Edward Gorey, Floating Worlds: The Letters of Edward Gorey & Peter F. Neumeyer
“I don’t really like driving in the snow. There’s something about the motion of the falling snowflakes that hurts my eyes, throws my sense of balance all to hell. It’s like tumbling into a field of stars.”
― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 8: Worlds’ End
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.