Winter Light: Through Windows

The short days and low sun of winter have their blessings: the sun rises luxuriously late, allowing me to enjoy the rich intensity of color emerging from the dark; and the sunlight pours into the house, reaching far into rooms untouched in summer. This change of light has encouraged me to take still life photographs during the past two winters, a time I am more focused inwards. I thought that this season I would begin with a transitional idea, of the winter landscape seen through windows. This bedroom window faces east, to the sunrise, and to the White Mountains of New Hampshire draped by clouds in the distance. This is a scene to encourage rising...




and walking to the window to observe the landscape more closely. A narrow band of moisture gathers beads of light, rivaling the luminous sky. My only regret about double glazed windows is the loss of Jack Frost on the old storms, those beautiful and varied patterns of ice that coated them. But now I can see out of the windows all winter, instead of looking through coats of frost.




A few days before that clear sunrise there had been snow; blown snow made a lacy pattern on windows that carried into the room. The sun picked out the edges of things, the lines of cobweb and string.




And from the kitchen window, the soft shimmer and glitter of snow, a gentleness framed by strict geometry, reminding me of nature/culture, inside/out, warm/cold and many other interesting contrasts and contradictions.


A couple of other Winter Light posts:
Winter Light: Teacups
Winter Light: Knobs and Handles
Winter Light: Rounds

***Note: I'll be away for a few days, to celebrate an early Hanukah with my family, and to see friends and art. See you next week.