. . . is the number of burrs i pulled off my jeans, my coat, my sleeves, and my hair after carrying this clingy little monster down my driveway, then taping it to a chair to hold it still for this photo. if i had just taken a sheet of white paper into the woods, the snow in my socks would have melted by now. as things stand, the burrs in my socks will be there for weeks.

virginia stickseed burr

my driveway, saint paul, minnesota

these flowers have reached old age in style, maybe a little dry skinned, maybe somewhat brittle, but standing straight, with that good posture they learned from the nuns in grade school, and bearing up to the ill winds of winter in ways that would have demoralized their younger, merely pretty, summer selves.

winter wildflower stems from the shores of lake phalen

saint paul, minnesota

normally when it is snowing outside and your back hurts, it’s because you’ve been shoveling. well, it’s been snowing, and my back hurts, but i haven’t been shoveling snow, i’ve been sitting cross-legged on my tile floor, making snow.

evergreens from my yard: red cedar, white cedar, red pine, white pine, balsam, spruce

saint paul, minnesota

these were some of the unfortunate boys in our hive full of girls. they have a single purpose, to mate with a queen, and then, their usefulness exhausted, they are expelled from the hive in the fall and not allowed to re-enter. it is a long, cold winter, and there is only just enough honey. generosity is an extravagance.

dead drone honey bees

collected outside the door of our backyard hive, saint paul, minnesota