Fading into White
Yellowstone National Park
I came across this stand of 'bobby socks trees,' their lower trunks bleached by the thermal waters they once stood in. They just materialized out of the white, one by one, like charcoal sketches on a blank canvas. There was no wind, just a damp, biting cold that seeped into my gloves. I stood there for a while, just watching them fade in and out of existence with the shifting mist. It felt like standing on the edge of the world.