Forget any thoughts of darkness. These are days of such light.
The light was fading in the cedar forest on Rose Swanson Mountain in Splatsin Territory this afternoon. There was too little light for representative photos, but with a little movement, I caught the trees moving in a place between their worlds and ours. Here are some young ones rising out of the snow.
And a fallen log covered in snow among the dancers.
And a big cedar, with green lichen on lilac-coloured bark.
And one of her sisters, in a clearing.
These are not photo-shopped images. Trees are spiritual beings, as we are. They are our elder sisters, and teach us. Only very rarely is it the other way around.