Winter, with all its difficulties of cold and ice and snow, has unique qualities of beauty unmatched at other times. There is the sheer joy of waking to a warm-colored sunrise and its promise of brilliance.
Among blue snow shadows, the low sun throws a pink light,
and the lace of bare branches appears as a soft red haze.
Henry David Thoreau wrote on January 11th, 1854: "Nature is now gone into her winter palace."
Winter ,where you live ,is a wonder for sure.
ReplyDeleteI do love seasons, Susan. When I lived in northern California for three years, I very much missed the sharp differences between them.
ReplyDeleteAltoon: you are a poet of words too. And yes, seasons are inspiring and force us to get outside ourselves and recognize larger cycles.
ReplyDeleteTrust Thoreau to coin the perfect phrase. Snowing softly here and very beautiful.
ReplyDeletethank you, Julie. I got rid of a lot of words before publishing this.
ReplyDeleteLinda, I was reading in Thoreau's journal this morning to find a quote and this one, even though written about a day of hoar frost, seemed perfect.
Beautiful Altoon, hope you bed faces that view. I love lying in bed, all warm with that soft light bathing the room. There is a certain feel to the room though that tells you it's bloody cold out there, and you might as well stay where you are for a while longer and luxuriate in the light. Today, -22 C.here, think that is about -5 F
ReplyDeleteYes, Liz, the first two images are the view from my bedroom, the third from the back window in pantry and office. Here it went up to around 10 F today, not as cold as up near you, but cold enough.
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