“It looks like someone sprayed frosting all over the trees, like on a cake!” Gun Roswell


The wintery forest like a magical garden, all in so many shades of white, the frozen snow and ice, looking more like a topping on some food thing than anything natural.

But, we all know nature performs miracles and winter is among those for sure, the sugary coating looking all too good, but certainly not something anyone would chew on.

Still, it looks pretty while it lasts, the picture perfect draft of an image, taken in haste, as the cold seeping in through the cracks of this human being, only wanting to have the perfect memory of a winter’s day to last.

Frozen in spacetime

“The wintery scene, pretty as can be, frozen in time in the picture perfect frame” Gun Roswell 

Frozen in spacetime

The blue is the hue, even in the midst of all the white, as the light of the day, is absorbed by the nights they call polar up north

And so, getting there, into the forest, when the blues hits the nature, frozen on each and every surface, as is the moment in time

With one single snap, the very moment will last, not just in the memories nor the personal data banks of the snapper, rather all over the internet, where it was so thoughtfully placed

A picture perfect moment, frozen during winter times, now frozen in space time

The colours of autumn in Suburbia

“The colours so vibrant it hurts the onlookers head, well, sometimes, but hey, just enjoy them for now as snow will fall soon enough!“ Gun Roswell

The colours of autumn in Suburbia

Suburbia coming to life with these colours being ever so bright. 

Never mind, the pouring rain, the plain and same ole colour of grey, the dominant for this season, at least where the skies are concerned.

Glance around, prance even if this is the time you have found to do so.

As this flow of nature, is at its very end, almost reaching the winter season, and then it is time to spend indoors, hoping the walls and floors will keep you warm!

Snow cover like sprinkled powder

“The snow fell upon the land, covering it all, with a white blanket, soft, but cold and well, guess that is all” Gun Roswell

Snow cover like sprinkled powder

The bluish hue when the night falls upon the land on the shores

The snow having softly made a landing, now covering it all

Not just the land though, but also the newly iced over waterfall

The sparkly waters only yesterday roaring with life

Now simply frozen by the temperatures plummeted over night

It’s a pretty sight though, no matter the cold

And for those, loving the winter activities, feeling bold 

Can get out there with their skis, skates and whatever else daring 

Because soon enough, it will get either too cold or too warm

To really enjoy the scenery and the soft and sparkling snow

So, getting up and out there, no matter if liking it or not

Just try to go with the flow and enjoy, well, the snow

Colours of the Season

“They might not be as green as they once were, but those colours, albeit faded, are still, luminous“ Gun Roswell

Colours of the Season

On the ground they lay, in somewhat of a disarray, still, not willing to give up, not just yet, even if the colours of summer, having turned to fall, had faded, soon to be incorporated to the awaiting dirt in the shade of the dullest of greys.

But, no matter the outcome might just be for them all, no matter the fate, these, faded colourful tiny beings seemed to be hanging on for a moment longer, making the onlookers heart sing, simply because the resilient fight they are putting on, staying strong, no matter the odds.

The breaking waves

“The waters are calm today, only gently breaking against the rocky shores, like being no great chore at all” Gun Roswell

The breaking waves

The waters edge, the place where the waves and the land meet, the shores of beyond the rocky terrain, where few feet have trudged, because getting there is hard and difficult, often impossible.

But those who dare, can not stand and stare, after having reached, the sandy beach, and then in awe admire of their perfect score, as the views are not short of magnificent, but time there watching, observing spent short, as the storm will soon be upon and the sandy shores travelled upon will be gone, sunken by the roaring waves to the beyond.

Something which remains

“There is always something which survives the harshness of changing seasons” Gun Roswell

Something which remains

The nature, something wild and untamed

Even if nothing remains the same, when seasons change

Somethings, will never yield

To the yoke of weather, no matter how extreme

Keeping on, hanging there for dear life

Surviving, no matter what just might be the strife

The pests of nature as some might call them

But in the end, it does not really matter 

These survivors of the harsh, will become so much better

Each and every passing season

Some say, this might just be even treason

From Mother Nature trying to prove being better

But humans do not understand

What the real struggle really is all about

As they are the ones pushing forward

Destroying all that which does not seem smart

Then again, who are they to decide

Because in the end, nature will always triumph

Long after the last human has disappeared

The weeds as they were once called

Have made their stance at the waters edge

Still surviving, even thriving 

In the summers warmth and winters cold 

Shadows reflected

“A family of ducks, did their feathers pluck, in the middle of the lake, which as no fake, and with the serene waters quite still, as the ducks always came there to chill“ Gun Roswell

Shadows reflected

The birds, the insects, even a few daring peoples, usually wandered off to the near by lake, just to take, a surface dive, on the water’s edge, being none to deep, it was easy to simply in the bottom of it to sit, cooling down after a long day doing whatever, but as soon as they had reached the blue liquid place, their minds, totally went into a different state, the same for all the animals, humans and other types alike, nothing to put away the daily strife, but into a calming blue water taking a shallow dive.

Hiding behind the setting sun

“The setting sun, is engulfing the sky, painting it red, on the fly, not even trying to hide, blinding those who dare to pry“ Gun Roswell

Hiding behind the setting sun

The red colour the first clue, that of the sun setting for sure

There was no place to hide, from the sun’s light, not even at this stage of its existence before the day’s resistance became too much and as such, the sun needed to go, at least, for the night

There was really no fight, apart from the one final display of power

The skies glowing bright red instead, no hiding from any of it

And then, after the scene, the display most powerful, the sun was gone in an instance

Leaving those small creatures, trying to hide from the show, but only to be able to bow

In front of the magnificence of the celestial body in awe

And soon after night fell, the hiding places plentiful

Need for sure as without light, shining the land brightly

There was no security, for the critters small until dawn

Disappearing one and all, into their lairs familiar

Making sure never to question or doubt, the mighty sun and its dome

The eternal giver of light, warmth, security and in the end the daily show

Basking in the last rays of sun

“It might be already autumn, fall, but these last rays of sun shine will be soaked“ Gun Roswell

Basking in the last rays of sun

They don’t look like much, and even the slightest touch, can make them crumble all the way down, but these hays, the lonely strays, far away, from the fields they were born, still hang on, until the last rays of summer, have been consumed.

And so, these strays loom, gently, softly in the winds of fall, as if trying some more time to stall, and still heaving, leaving, the onlookers in complete awe, as these, straws of summer almost passed, are quite strong and most likely will last, even past the strongest of winter’s storms.