After a day of fine, dry snow and the horrendous wind gusts that blow it around, the park was empty of walkers as I stood on the banks of the Mississippi and observed the texture of its frozen waters. Any slightly raised surface had captured a tuft of snow as the wind carved across the ice. With the light coming from the side, each tiny snowy hillock was illuminated as a white dot or curve marking the surface topography against the gray of the ice. I stood silently taking it in before I…
ContinueAdded by Vernon Windsor on January 24, 2014 at 10:29am — 1 Comment
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