Dense fog descends over the barren rows. The promise of bringing forth fruit seems distant, unimaginable, and possibly unattainable. It all seems hopeless, such a dead world. No sun, no green shoots, no blossoms. It is only a season. A moment in time before new life and warmth come. Such an illustration of the season in life which come and go only as short moments.
The Winter of Life
Dense fog descends over the barren rows. The promise of bringing forth fruit seems distant, unimaginable, and possibly unattainable.
