A flower never looked so new and fresh on such a bitter cold morning. Its white petals sticking out paralyzed with the frozen grass. The apple is blushing a reddish-pink hue. Dried pine needles scatter across the earth carpeting what's left of the dried and broken grass. This is winter in the coldest month of January. Winter is a time of rest for country folk and for nature's bounty. Winter is silence, rest and family. A time when the earth is cold and barren. But, these flowers rest as small anecdotes of the sweet smell of spring's green hills flowing with bright dandelions and periwinkle clover.
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