Winter's View

Winter's View

The path stretched ahead, pale and unbroken, leading to the gnarled silhouette of a tree that had stood there for decades. A low fence ran alongside, its posts leaning like tired soldiers. The air was still, the kind of stillness that muffles every sound except the crunch of frosted snow underfoot.

She hadn’t meant to come this way. The decision had been as quiet as the landscape; a turn of her heel, a pull of something unspoken. Now she stood at the edge of the path looking at the tree with its bare branches twisting like veins against the graphite sky.

This place had once been hers. She’d run along the fence line as a child, her fingers grazing the rough wood. Later, she’d sat beneath that very tree, tracing her thoughts in the dirt, crying over fallouts and lost love. And now here she was again, the years behind her like a long, cold breath.

The tree stood unchanged, but it had a new weight to it as though it had been waiting for years, carrying her memories without complaint. She walked towards it, one step, then another, until the path gave way to the frozen earth beneath its shadow.

Her hand reached out, brushing the old bark, and for a moment the world seemed to relax. The frost glittered like quiet stars and she felt the faint hum of belonging. Nothing spoke, but nothing needed to. She had returned and the silence was enough.

Prints of “Winter's View” are available in various sizes in the catalogue gallery or please click here.