Skeleton Trees

It's always been a dream of mine to see a white birch forest. They are something of nature that has always captivated me, with the way their eyes are always watching, standing tall and thin like statuary soldiers reaching their fingers to the clouds, and the way their skin peels like the hand made colored pencils I used when I was little. I've been checking a lot of things off my bucket list lately. I love impromptu inspirations to venture. They are always the best kind full of quick decisions that lead to odd explorations and stories of the best kind. I had already driven a little over 2 hours from home so what was 3 more. We dropped everything and drove far away into the mountains in search of a single patch of forest. Weather dropped to low 30's and snow began to fall by the time we arrived to the trees. The only people around were a few trucks full of hunters who passed every now and then, and probably rolled their eyes at us as we ran along the edge of the forest laughing in tanktops and dresses-- we were unprepared, and cold, and laughing at our stupidity as our noses turned red and fingers felt as though they'd fall off. The world was silent. We felt alive. Every dusty white tree's eyes watching. 

*Thank you to my most wonderful best friend, Tal, for taking all the photos of me