Frost is nature’s graffiti. Jack Frost came in the night and painted on the window panes with his index finger. I imagine him as Peter Pan’s doppelganger cousin. An ageless mischievous boy who makes his art and flicks away into the night, thrives on the bitter cold and eats snow. He might also be responsible for […]
January. I always thought the name had a cold, funereal sound. It implies a silence broken only by gusts of frigid, snow-laden winds crashing against windowpanes.
Every December 31st and January 1st I find myself floating on a sort of New Year’s euphoria. Suddenly, time becomes a clean, white, empty slate upon which we can write, a blanket of newly-fallen snow. The possibilities are endless, and the first footsteps to mark that landscape are special. I’m always in a hurry to begin.
Note: This was written on Thanksgiving, but due to unforeseen circumstances I was not able to post it until this week. Ninja passed away December 7th. The snow is audible – wet and icy – as it hits the windows and the back of the air conditioning unit. It sounds like rain, and is intensifying […]
Autumn and Spring are the transitions between Summer and Winter, and Winter and Summer. The Earth changes modes, switches sides. After a long winter of heavy clouds and cold and mud we look eagerly to the first glimpses of the crocus and the snow drop, a hint of green beneath the winter-brown of dead lawns, […]
