One of the great things about winter is sledding. If you don't have a sled, no worries - just about anything will do (cardboard?) which is part of the fun. Of course a big toboggan with a group of screaming riders is pretty awesome too!
There is a well known story by photographer William Guion regarding his lovely photo Leaning Oak and Reflection, which is quoted on the blog 'Unfolding Leadership.' The author, Dan Oestreich, reflects on perserverance and the importance of affirmation.
My own photo doesn't do the subject justice of course, but in this photo I just liked the way all the angles showed so well in the snow which highlighted the staying power of these trees.
Guion, William. Statement regarding one his photographs Leaning Oak and Reflection (available here). http://www.unfoldingleadership.com/blog/?p=3407
"On a hazy, chilly December morning, I walked, camera and tripod balanced on my shoulder, through a stand of oaks toward he edge of a pond. The water was silver-gray and still like a mirror hung in an empty, unlit hall. A thin mist fell, or more accurately, hung in the air. Rain had soaked the landscape during the night, and mud at the water’s edge sucked at my shoes. In the yawning light, I saw an oak leaning at a precarious angle over the water. The soil had eroded over time, dissolving much of the tree’s foundation, yet the oak’s roots were locked tenaciously into the receding land. Against the threat of drowning, this tree survived through an elegant dance of balance, perseverance, and heroism. Almost in praise, the pond mirrored the oak’s profile creating a beautiful mandala-like wheel with spokes of water, leaves, earth and light.
As I set up and focused the tree on my camera’s ground glass, I thought how often in my own life I have lived just on the edge of heroic acts. How I’ve operated within safe, comfortable boundaries that defined the limits of what I could accomplish. At this time in my life, I was considering leaving a comfortable, secure job to follow my heart’s urging to photograph and write. I stood on the edge of an uncertain future, mud sucking at my shoes, and stared out through the mists across silver-gray water at this leaning oak. Through its example, I saw clearly through the mists of doubt separating me from a decision. I stood for a long moment and imagined the worst that could happen if I stretched too far over the edge of my fears. Then, in that second when I snapped the shutter recording this moment on film, I stepped across an imaginary line in my mind. In the pond’s dark mirrored water I saw a face. It smiled back at me."
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