That golden-brown grass spiking up out of the white horizontal stripes. In the center, gray branches, but gray with whispers of red, hints of gold. Green, not in summer abundance, but only a counterpoint, living sentinels against the winter death. What can I say? I don't do bright and cheery....and, really, I'd rather explore the bones of the past than meet the people of today.
The art I started there, my Domestic Archaeology, has the bones of past crochet, the tree stumps of yo-yo quilts, and in this photo you can almost feel the cold.