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Half a mile South of town Louis Dreyfus terminal is a ghostly image in the blowing snow and above the sky is in tatters. As you look toward the tree line you can see the drifting snow marching along the ground relentlessly. The fresh crystals quickly loose their fragile structures as they tumble along until they are deposited for a moment only to be once again lifted and tossed to yet another temporary resting place.

A mile South it was time to turn back but the sky was more then worthy of more dedicated digits. Pictures tell you as little or as much as you wish to read into them. Point that lens at the sky, or a snow drift and recording that image seems to give the moment some immortality but that is not really the case because the elements of the image are really superficial compared to the processing and enhancements that the view brings to the picture. As you look at these images today they will appear quite differently on a hot summer day or are tempered by the emotions you are experiencing as you look them over from time to time. The subtle shades in the images only hint at some reality it is the view who sees something there, it is his or her own experience that bring meaning to the dots.