On MLK Day, the temperature never rose above 28 degrees and the sky was mostly gray. I shivered just thinking about going outside, but it was exactly the kind of colorless winter day where I might capture the stark, rural Pennsylvania landscape that Andrew Wyeth evokes so beautifully in his paintings. So I layered up drove just outside the city and I felt like a hearty soul for getting out there.
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Not far from the gritty, northwestern part of Philadelphia,
Henry Avenue winds west and suddenly there's this farm. |
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My field boots didn't keep my feet warm, ankle
deep in snow, but I traipsed field-side for a few
hundred feet, then ran back to the warm car. |
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| Dried thistles on spindly branches poked out of the snow, |
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| tiny ornaments in a stark landscape. |
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A cow lowed in the distance, a melancholy sound and I felt sorry
for the farm animals on that frigid winter day. |
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There was so little color in the winter landscape
that I noticed the muted gold of the afternoon sky. |
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