For the Year of the Goat, cloven hooves on granular snow, with accents by chicken. I believe the Cudzoo Goat Girls may be drawing poems about the eight 八 noble paths to enlightenment (a state of mind usually to be found by ruminating on alfalfa hay). Curiously, their hoofwork and voices converge.
Snow scribing. Here are the plants at work, from last year.
Winter seemed to be slipping quietly out of the door, but evidently it still has business here. The forest floor is transformed.
Where-ever dark objects protrude, they soak the sun’s weak heat. Gradually the surrounding snow sublimates, leaving sleeves of empty space around twigs and leaves.