The last of the winters snow is loosing its grip. Soon the grasses and the soil will be free to breathe deeply, soak in the rays of the spring sun and begin to stir to life once again. While I am very exited for spring to explode, there is a small part of me that mourns the loss (for now) of the slow, quiet of winter. This photo depicts a lot of that feeling inside me. The raw, bareness that winter leaves in its wake. That still moment, between breaths as one clings to the past, resides in the present and yearns for the future.