The snow in these photos is long gone, brushed out of the boughs by dry winds that either soaked it up or knocked it to the ground. Such snowy prettiness doesn’t last long in these parts, when snow is too often accompanied by wind, but on the morning of our most recent storm, it was good enough to let the beauty linger. The delay afforded my late morning venture (hanging out the window to get these shots), allowing enough time to grab the fluffy white stuff before it went away. That was days ago. The branches are bare now, and the skies are gray. There is wind too, but no more snow to pull down.
It is said that we just had the most depressing day of the year (January 6). This time it was depressing for more than the typical post-holiday-blues reasons and the seemingly endless stretch of winter days ahead of us. The world is in turmoil, the world is in tumult. We hang onto whatever is around us, grasping desperately for what we know, what is comfortable, what is safe. And maybe nothing is anymore.
Puts me in the mind of an Adrienne Rich poem…
Look: this is January the worst onslaught
is ahead of us Don’t be lured
by these soft grey afternoons these sunsets cut
from pink and violet tissue-paper by the thought
the days are lengthening
Don’t let the solstice fool you:
our lives will always be
a stew of contradictions
the worst moment of winter can come in April
when the peepers are stubbornly still
and our bodies
plod on without conviction
and our thoughts cramp down before the sheer
arsenal of everything that tries us:
this battering, blunt-edged life
– Adrienne Rich
