I have always loved Winter.
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Winter is such a beautiful season. Yes it has its challenges, but then too, it has so much wonder - so much to enjoy, to discover.
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The Seasons come and go. Christmas is past. We lean into a New Year.
For those of us where the weather can be cold and intemperate, there is still much to love, much to do...
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The seasons come 'round and Winter crowds in to take its share of the year. it's an awesome time, with both beauty and challenge.
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We wake, staying over at friends, and the day is heavy with falling snow. The large, slowly falling flakes flicker and shift and gently touch the ground. There is no wind.
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Sometimes, somehow, despite the business of the Season, there can be a strange calm that settles upon us, even upon us last-minute, late-evening shoppers.
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Winter has its unique beauty. We try to capture its essence in picture, poem and song but it must be experienced to be appreciated – and respected.
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The cold of winter comes to us and each year we are shocked just a little.
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Blessings to you in this special Season. Promise, Peace, Joy and Love - I pray they'll be in your experience this day and in the coming year.
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An old tractor in my friend, Bill's barn. Like all of us, it has a few years and miles on it and now it waits for winter in the steel quonset barn. We get to wait in warmer, nicer surroundings.
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I know Winter's coming, but I'm in denial.
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There's nothing like a really cold day in Ontario, Canada. I love the Seasons - love to see them come and love to see them go.
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The art and creativity of some folk is just astounding, at least to me.
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After having lived in many places, Burlington Ontario, London Ontario, Toronto, Wenham MA, Gloucester MA, Uxbridge ON, Calgary Alberta, Saskatoon Saskatchewan, and Toronto again - I return at times
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I love the Seasons. I love the Snow - looking at it that is, before its beauty fades, the whiteness turns to black, the magic pristine crystals slush.
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Limitations of the Linear
I am quite a lateral thinker, though I can at times think, plan and act in a straight line, if that's called for.
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Turkey left-overs, cold potatoes and squash, tiny mince tarts, a glass of cranberry cocktail . . . a brief but pretty snow flurry - whispy cotton, gentle on the neighbour's recently new fence . .
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I love this picture by Arthur J. Eisley, 1860-1952 (as I love all paintings that tell a story, that suggest and probe); not sure why. Perhaps the early snowfall that year made me think of it.
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The 'modern age' assumed that we could control, predict and pressure into conformity all that we wanted to be and to do, pressing foward as we have been toward preferred outcomes for the life, meas
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Unlike the warmth and splendour enjoyed and even taken for granted in some parts of the world, at present, my garden and environs are encased in the cold white and grey of winter.
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