I've walked these familiar trails so many times over the course of a year and each time it's different. Whether it's Winter, Spring, Fall or Summer, I always see something new that sparks my eye. In winter, the Cottonwoods are shorn of their leaves and they stand bright white and black against the deep, blue sky. The mornings are crisp and cold, the light sharp, the birds in the trees just waking up to song. Soon, the green leaves will appear with the warmer days, and the same trail will be different and new once again.