A little snow still hangs on, resting on brown branches. They are silhouettes against a gray backdrop.
Before the December rain melted away our Christmas-y snow, these pretty details were everywhere.
Even at the end, there is beauty to be found.
What was once lush and green is now dry and brittle. The signs of life that summer saw slowly fade away. Life rests below the surface now, the roots at rest until another spring.
Late fall is a monotone of browns, the colour of comfort: a cup of tea, rich chocolate, cinnamon spice, toast in the morning.
It is a sepia photograph.