The garden sleeps, tucked in beneath the snow, undisturbed by the occasional rabbit crossing, unaware of the wind and weather.
Time passes and leaves marks. Blue-gray metal beneath flaking paint and the blue-green hint of patina. Remnant leaves still on the vine almost vibrant in their crunchy orange contrast, a memento of seasons past.
Winter garden: paradigm of biding one’s time.
57/365: faucet with vine
avant garden 365 
It is like the faucet and the vine are just waiting to do their thing, just like us. I really think you captured the essence of of ‘waiting”. I like everything about that picture.
Thanks. I’m glad someone else liked it. I was just so drawn to the stillness.