I went for a walk this morning. It was -6° Fahrenheit. As I've stated before, I like the cold. Even so, I couldn't help but think back longingly to summer as I hurried down State Street, my fingers turning a rather pretty shade of blue. Summer was just a few months ago, but it seems as though it was a different world. We dressed differently, we spent our time differently, we saw entirely different scenes outside our doors. I took the photograph above on August 31. The pretty scene disguises a greater adventure, for to get that shot I had to hike a few miles, climb some tall rocks, and balance awkwardly with one foot on a steep slope, holding my camera overhead at just the right angle to cut past the weeds towards the lovely Asters you see. I realized later that these flowers were everywhere, and that I could have just taken a picture of them in someone's flowerbed — but summer wouldn't have been nearly as fun if I'd just stayed home.

The same thought applies to winter. It is easy on these frigid days of January to think back fondly to August, but I can't honestly say that winter is any less beautiful. Indeed, some places that are rather ugly in summer become quite aesthetic under a freshly fallen layer of snow. I could never spend winter hiding indoors waiting for the warm weather to return, because I would miss too much. Going through winter without admiring the ice and frost would be like passing the summer without appreciating flowers or thunderstorms. The joy of living in a place like Wisconsin is that we get to pass through all these remarkable worlds just by staying put.

I don't usually have an issue with not being able to see the forest for the trees. This afternoon, though, even trees seemed hard to find—I was far too preoccupied with the branches. As I walked into the valley, little things, little ordinary things, kept stealing my attention. Here are a few big pictures of the little things I encountered.

I. Young Pears Still Growing on the Tree

It'll be a fruitful harvest, in every sense of the word. And what could be better to accompany my favorite artisan cheeses?

II. Green Acorns at the Foot of an Oak Tree

I wonder if they fell here during one of the storms we had this week?

III. Yellow Mushrooms in the Moss

I think these are Cantharellus minor—meaning they're edible—but I don't trust my mushroom-identifying skills well enough to taste.

Zooming in on the small stuff was a refreshing change from the panoramas that surround me at my home atop the ridge, and when I did make my way back up the hill, I realized that upon drawing back from these close-ups, the big view seems even larger. Every grand vista from the top of my hill is made up of a million little scenes like these.

I had my first wildflower sighting of the season today, just before Easter. It's good old Caltha palustris, better known as the Marsh Marigold.

As their name implies, these plants thrive in wet places. These ones were nestled against rocks and logs at the trickling beginnings of a stream on the family farm. Every year I am amazed to find these flowers blossoming almost as soon as the last snow melts, flowering while the trees are still bare, and shedding their petals for the season before the other plants have gotten two inches from the ground. I think I can understand their impatience. As it is I'm bogged down with books and papers for school, but I wish I could join these marigolds in rising out of the muck and catching some early sunshine. Alas—I'll just have to wait for May, like all the ordinary flowers.