If you ask what comes to mind when I think about winter, the answer is pine cones. They may not drip with the sticky sweetness of a springtime berry or fall softly into the grass like a flower, but they are what give the forest legs. I think about all of the baby seeds that live within the cone and how it remains a shelter until they're ready to stretch out and grow into their own pine tree. I look at all of these scattered pine cones, some are hidden beneath winter snow, others roll into autumns leftover sap, and I see little wombs for the forest.
Pine cones are a lot like human beings, the right amount of sunlight and shadow is where we both begin.