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| Someone's Late Winter Wand. Oh, how this strange light & snow draw the eye to places unnoticed. |
10:45 pm, April 18. I am sorting images in bed. I find myself astonished at how light it is outside. When did this Sun-thing happen? The all-knowing, data-oozing, cyborg-phone tells me that the sunset was at 9:30, but had I been insane enough to sit in the cold, I could have easily read a book out of doors for an hour beyond that time.
Assorted cues are telling me that Spring may actually be in the process of springing, although here I think it snaps. I don't know this Place in this season, so I cannot be certain. Abdicating my snowbird status & enduring this Winter from its early beginning to its painfully late end, I believe I am allowed to exchange my "Cheechako" badge for some kind of "Sourdough" status. As I do not care much for labels, I will be satisfied with direct Sunlight on my face every day & retiring my pillbox hat, thank you.
So here is this Sun, returning with a vengeance. Rising before 6:30 am, it will set fifteen hours later. Already. But the snow persists, enough so that when I make the (admittedly repeated) mistake of straying from the security of the groomed trail surface I will sink to to above my knees, often to my crotch. It is moments like these, clumsily flopping & wading about, hoisting myself back upon the the trail, when I am reminded why the Moose have such long legs. If I had their legs, I would have some amazing photographs. But, I digress. The Sun, combined with the lingering snow creates this weird light & hypnotic shadows. Try as I might, I cannot effectively capture the atmosphere with the camera.
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| Strange light, strange lines I cannot capture. |
This strange dance of light & shadow is particularly mesmerizing in the Ice. I am certain, were I to remain for more than a long moment, that these places would share visions -- spontaneous scrying surfaces of Place.
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| Late Winter lines & shadows, trees & Ice. |
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| Late Winter scrying surfaces: what do the shadows reveal? |
And although in my tending to small persons, I neglect the opportunity to stop for visions in this world of light & shadow, I do find that so many things gone unnoticed are suddenly revealed. The strange contrasts bring them to the forefront.
Frosty meanderings of critters rarely seen in the green months:
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| Small mammal tracks. Did they make them in the Moonlight? |
The steadfast snow-resistance of certain plants -- usually obscured in the dense summer foliage -- offers them a showcase:
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| Light & Shadow draw the eye... |
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| "Weedy" charms of the undergrowth rise to prominence. |
It all makes me regret not purchasing that book about Winter grass & weedy plant identification...
Cast it away, regret is a wasteful emotion. Besides, I have survived... & none too soon. In these last few weeks I have felt the Dogs of Depression nipping at my heels, raising both my bitch-factor & my aptitude for snark by several degrees. It is with hope & gratitude that I welcome back this strange & increasingly persistent Light. Seek, hunt, soar in pure freedom, in the warmth of this great Light -- that was the reminder offered by a bald eagle circling the house yesterday. "Turn your face to the Sun & the Shadows fall behind you." I have always loved that saying, despite its obfuscated origins (is it Maori, Chinese, Whitman, Whitton, or otherwise?), so this is what I shall do. Turn my face to this strange & emergent Light. I have nothing against the shadows, but enough is indisputably enough, thank you.
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| Winter Wanes: Turning my face to a strange Light. (Rose coloured glasses help too.) |
Time to make updates to the (Alaskan) Wheel of the Year.
