A misty morning, trees silhouetted against the mist, suffused with light, glowing white with just the palest touch of gold to it -- a whole mass of trees dark on the hillside, with the light glowing everywhere between them.
A little evergreen sapling in front of my place. It put out new greenery with the spring, masses of branches with pale needles, looking a little floppy, but it's so small that it probably doubled its size, and with the floppiness of the new growth, looks like an awkward little puppy.
Down the highway, there are sometimes gaps that let you see into the trees. And sometimes there are gaps in the canopy, letting in the sunlight on the saplings below. Let the sunlight strike right, and the leaves can glow like emeralds, all the more brilliant for the green gloom about them.
Trees unleashing puff pods of seeds, so they look like light, fluffy snow on the air -- the first early flakes before a snow flurry, not heavier -- but exactly like. (I know. One winter when it did not snow, I took the first snowflakes, when it finally did, as occasion to wonder what seeds were floating about.)