I suppose I feel like they speak for themselves. I go for the understated. The beauty less loved. I adore the solace of snow. I chat with engaging, crackling fires ~ and note the sublime in crackling morning frosts.
This is a lesson for a writing life. Look at more than the obvious, the showy. Focus on the undercurrents, the building blocks for the "greater" seasons to come. This will create a fullness in your work, enriched by quiet introspection and observation.
Then, when the riots of morning birdsong and evenings of spring peepers in the pond come, as they have now, the fullness of their songs will be enhanced by the comparative depth of silence.