has faded and before the ground has shrugged into the thickness of a white winter coat. Everything seems so bare, more plain somehow. How stark and empty it looks by comparison. You can see things you couldn’t see before…maybe because they were hidden behind a growth of flashy abundance or camouflaged by the distraction of the beauty that suffocated it. This is the in between, the barren period of one season giving way to another, and there really isn’t a name for what it is. It isn’t known for its beauty, its growth. It’s neither a beginning nor an end…it’s simply an in between, a period of almost imperceptible transition.
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