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.
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.
In my last post I talked about how the road will wait for you while you give yourself the rest you need. But there’s something else that doesn’t wait, and if you want to catch it, you have to agree to its terms…
Now, I’m the first person to rebel against the idea that “The sun is out, so you have to go out too”. But if you long for the light, here’s a thought: grab it while it lasts.
Your duties may have deadlines, but so does life. Maybe it’s time to take that break and give yourself a reward.
Is the sky blue today?
Is the world an open book, glittering brightly?
The time for twinkling snow flakes will be over before you know it. The time for moving freely through the woods will be over before you know it.
If you can, steal that moment today. Because on your deathbed, you won’t regret the time you went out to see the world.
Some days are heavy and dark.
You move like a somnambulist through your life. You don’t see your path.
Everything is a bluish grey, and the lines all seem blurred.
It’s the ebb and flow of energy, the presence and absence of light. It’s the long sleep before renewal.
What if you too dared to follow that ebb and flow, if you dared to take the time to rest?
The road will still be there when you come back.