Press through the thorny thicket, licked with water and blood.
As the hart panteth after the streams of water, so doth my soul long for you, O Lord.

Good morning! Get to it; there's grace to be found in every minute of this day.

We prune our plants so they might bear more fruit; we must prune our sensuous appetites so that our soul might be quenched by the Vine.

Have a nice look at these ones. I'll sneak you a full-res copy of the first one so you can peep at the frost crystals up close. \/