Winter has received its final blow. It may not look like it for those of you who don’t have experience with winter, but despite the remaining snow, the air is warm and the sun sets later and later. Even in the middle of the night, the sky isn’t completely black.
Last night we went for a walk in the evening haze, both of us armed with a camera for the first time in forever.
When this amount of now melts, there’s nowhere for it to go. Drowned trees gleam in the waning light.
And drowned lamp posts!
The sun was too bright to look at. To photograph it, you had to take a quick peek through the view finder and then close your eyes.
A couple of weeks ago the sun came back from hibernation, and my online life went AWOL. I’ve been so busy doing fun things (journalling mostly, which I will show in another post) because I’ve finally had some energy.
But I still wanted to show you the pictures from this year’s first trip to the cabin which took place two weeks ago. A bit late, I know, but everything looks more or less the same now, except the snow is starting to melt really fast! So this may be my last proper winter photos for a while as we move into what we call spring-winter (gotta have a name for when it’s sunny but still cold, ya know).
Well, the cabin is still standing. No broken windows, no leaky roof.
We had to shovel our way inside, but it’s been so cold this year that the snow is really light and fluffy, none of that heavy, icy, slushy stuff.
Plip, plop. Spring approaches one drop at a time.
When the snow is this deep, you have to keep to the snow mobile tracks or you sink down to your knees in fluffy crystals. You also have to watch where you place your chair…
Just posin’ on my own…
We made a fire and grilled a couple of sausages. Life’s good!
Glittering frost on the thermometre. The price we have to pay for sunlight…
There’s something very sharp about the winter sun: it cuts through landscapes of black, blue, and white, separating forest from snowy meadow and sky.
There is no hesitation and no blurry edges. Everything is the sum of what remains when you remove what it’s not.
Geometrical patterns. Frozen moments in time – the flow of brownish water caught in the moment of falling, like stalactites out in the open.
The sky is endless.
The ice is thick.
It hangs on roofs like winter’s promise of spring – because the only way an icicle can form is if the sun is warm enough to melt the snow.