Michael Wilkins
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Rolling wind-sculpted snow drifts in the foreground, their curves catching the sun, faint ski tracks crossing them, and a broad snowy valley rising to a wall of jagged peaks under a clear blue sky.

What the Wind Left

January 2020

The wind does the sculpting. The sun does the rest.

The drifts in the foreground are what wind does with fresh snow and nothing to stop it: long, soft curves that hold the light on one side and go blue on the other. A few tracks cross them, faint enough to read as texture rather than intrusion, and the peaks behind take care of the rest of the frame.