Flickering Flames

There’s a handful of leaves still on it. That’s what stopped me — a bare tree in a whiteout with a few points of orange hanging in the branches, the last of the autumn still burning down to nothing in the middle of winter. That’s where the title comes from.

The snow was falling hard but fine and dry, coming off my jacket without sticking or melting. Thick enough to erase everything at any distance, which is why the frame is as simple as it is — there’s no background because there wasn’t one. The tree sat slightly above me on a hill, so I could see it from base to tip.

I shot it from the road. The drifts on either side were four feet and more, and there was no getting off the asphalt to change position even if I’d wanted to. Ten frames stitched into a vertical panorama, which is what holds the detail in the bark at that size.

Same January trip as True Grit, The Nail and Winter Solitude — four prints from one blizzard, this one shot from the road in a whiteout.