The morning was fuzzy gray and wicked cold. A balmy 5 degrees Fahrenheit with windchill of -11F. Light dusting of snow. Bundled and loaded with gear, I headed out to the Bog.

Why?

Sometimes, you just know there is Beauty Waiting.

Mine were the only fresh human tracks in the light snow. Deer. Rabbit. Squirrel. Possibly bobcat. All ringed the boardwalk circling the remnants of the kettle lake. Traces crisscrossed the peat bowl, but nary an animal track off the boardwalk. They've learned. What appears solid is at least fifteen feet deep of peat soup with no mercy.

The Bog is a vestige of the Wisconsin Glacier receding. It's an unusual biome. The acidic, spongey peat creating delicate dimensional frost formations on all within what remains of the kettle lake. Outside that, standard winter. Tamarack trees at their southernmost point. Prickly. Devoid of needles. .

I shot a hundred or so frames, until the Gods of Nikon cried from cold and my fingers numbed. Wasn't expecting much as the camera whining and sluggish. Eyes tearing and icing on my glasses.

Rewarded with spectacular images! They are beautifully imperfect. I can either appreciate the Wabi Sabi essence or pick it apart. I prefer the former while embracing the Kaizen. The images convey a mood....an emotion...a story.

Winter Red, 2016, Susan McClory

Frosted Oak, 2016. Susan McClory