Something about the peace of fresh snowfall affects me; it makes slurry-filled streets seem near-pristine for a short time, and deadwood beautiful.
The photograph is one of my oldest, dating back to the winter of 2003. It was taken from the comfort of my own bedroom, although I could easily have made up a moving story about walking through snow-laden fields and copses of hibernating trees; fragile, listless, stained and choking firewood, that which we’ve annointed with noxious waste all cleansed in the embrace of Winter, but it would be so much horse-shit. Despite this, it’s remarkable how I managed to evade the many powerlines that cross between the houses in this area, let alone the actual buildings themselves.
When I start submitting SLR work, I’ll let you know.