I do not like winter even though it makes it easy to take pictures of denuded trees while thinking of Elliot Smith lyrics, or Shakespeare sonnets:
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
I am haunted by bare ruined choirs.
This was taken on the road somewhere between Athens GA and Comer GA, near some cows, none of 'em dead & there were no sweet birds singing, neither late nor early. For this image it would be particularly apposite if you click on the image so that it'll appear in the Lightbox.