She still comes to this spot every dusk. The day her mama flew away and never came back. She doesn’t know how to leave. Doesn’t know the world is bigger than this little lake. So she waits. Lonely by day. Scared by night. Still watching the empty sky for the one who promised to

Frosted teasel by the frozen lake. Sharp. Still. Holding winter’s crown when everything else has let go. ❄️🌿

Little sparrow on a frosted branch. Puffed up. Patient. Still here through the cold. Like the rest of us waiting for spring. 🐦❄️

Winter reeds by the frozen lake. Still standing. Still whispering. Still here when everything else has gone quiet. ❄️🌾

First he looked at me with his left eye, then with his right, as if quietly asking for understanding. He stayed perched there, patient and still, until every one of his friends had flown off into the dusk. He looked so weary, probably hungry too — just a handful of leftover

Caught this one on a regular walk. No drama, just a heron being a heron

Winter doesn’t erase—it softens

no birds no problem 😆

winter leaves

Standing sentinel in the grey, it wears its winter crown of tiny stars — proof that beauty can outlast the color

White wings cut the dusk. River mirrors the fading sky.

Nothing follows. That’s the mercy. Good-bye 2025

where time pauses and the sky takes flight

a breath of warmth on a frozen branch

A small heartbeat beneath the frost