There is nothing, I learn when I move to Vermont, like the beauty of a leafless tree on snow, blue sky spreading itself as backdrop. Ancient calligraphic expression of life and the industry of growing. Absence of sound and sensation--just the visible substance of what lifts itself into the air of its own fortitude. It ravels itself out as the arboreal architecture of a sugar maple or a tamarack and teaches us how to be still. How to be lovely in our nakedness. Even in this wild and whispering cold.