I have not explored the The Fort Worth Botanic Garden. Not in the blazing heat of I’m-about-to-die summer, not in the tricky flash spring, and not in the mostly 100-degree fall either. I have especially not visited in the stark dead of winter. Why would I? It’s a garden.

Until now that is.

Our photography class field trip ended up here on Sunday. It’s the last class. Our last chance to use our technical learning and get it all right. Or some of it right. Or at least walk around with a camera and hope to get something right.

So, I knew there would be no lush gardens. No roses unfolding. No perennials sprouting. Just harsh branches reaching up leave-less and life-less aching for color. Hints of green would be hard to find, but hint they would, here and there, to take a peek at the landscape happily awaiting spring.

And then……..there is the winter colors. Not forgotten. Not overshadowed by new buds. Here they stick to their grounds solemn and stark saying in their calm way, “See, I’m not so bad.

The garden’s waterfall in winter.

A Zen-like path and bridge.

The soldiers of winter. Flowering cabbages.

The Rose garden trellis path to the fountain.

A secret garden gate.

Spring. The fresh sign of Daffodils blooming.

Hi spring – I see you.

**Photos by Angelia.