Gentle Snowfall, Crazy Canyon, Missoula, Montana

One of my favourite Christmas cards ever received features a black and white photo of children, togged out in 60s-era parkas and mittens, arms spread wide, catching snowflakes on their tongues. It seems to be a universal response, regardless your age. Maybe in our era it has something to do with the pace of life racing past - we want to capture something that still exists in its own time and pace, unpushed by demands. Snowflakes fall, float, are gusted about by wind. They simply are, in all their complex crystalline selves. I'll take a double helping of that, please.

Bark Bite, Pattee Canyon, Missoula, Montana

One of life's little mysteries: Why are there random small nails tacked into a pondersosa pine along a U.S. Forest Service trail?  I mean, it's not like anyone would hang a yard sale sign out along a cross-country ski trail.
And one would hope recreational folfers, skiers, and hikers would think of the Lorax and be more kind to the trees.

Any other ideas?

Ponderosa Cleft, Missoula, Montana

Under the right conditions, if you stick your nose close to the bark of a ponderosa pine, it smells like the finest quality vanilla - and makes you crave a snickerdoodle. I’m not sure if there’s a criteria for trees that readily evoke this fragrance - tallest, craggiest bark, exposed to sunlight - but recent controlled tests reveal no hint of vanilla present on a snowy, cold day. Later explorations showed the cookie jar was - alas! - empty.