“The country, russet, reddish, carmine-brown in this season.
A blue outline of hills above a fertile valley.
It’s warm as long as the sun does not set, in the shade cold returns.
Dark redwoods, transparent pale-leaved birches.
In their delicate network, a sliver of the moon.
I describe this for I have learned to doubt philosophy
And the visible world is all that remains."…extract…Czeslaw Milosz
A lonely farm, snow covered fields, harvest gone home..
The only sign of man, a smoking chimney..