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Going out with my camera in this season is much different than when I go out in other seasons. It is a less colorful, more
Somber Season
with the brown and rust colors, frequent gray skies, and cold everywhere.
For a couple of days we had mild weather (mid-40’s). Monday a cold front was heading our way. So before the cold and wind arrived, I headed out for a walk at French Regional Park.
For me, making photos in nature this time of year is an exercise in suspending judgment and being present to a different kind of beauty. The marsh area is now frozen over as is most of Medicine Lake. There were no ducks or geese to be seen except far out in the lake where there must have been a bit of open water. Most of the trees were bare. But I found some rust-colored oak leaves on a tree near the path. I decided to pause to make a few photos of them.
Beside the path there were dried plant stems and seeds. Some had a kind of order with strong straight stems, others formed clusters, and some hung down in groups making me feel that gravity was pulling them towards the ground like a magnet.
I could see dark clouds approaching and beginning to cover the blue sky above. And the open areas in the marsh reflected a deep blue behind a myriad of patterns that looked like they had been etched into the ice. As I walked I could feel the wind gusts getting stronger. I regretted that I hadn’t worn my gloves and a hat. And I met others who like me, probably felt fine when they started their walks without gloves and hat and were now looking chilled and wind-blown.
That’s what winter is: an exercise in remembering how to still yourself then how to come pliantly back to life again.
— Ali Smith
The bones of the land are showing. And though everything looks somber and dead, life is still present, hidden in the ground, waiting for the spring.
Still Growing, Still Learning
This time of year reminds me of the seasons of my life. Perhaps I have entered the winter of my seasons here on earth. But I don’t feel like I’m living in the winter of my life. I feel instead that I am continuing to grow and ripen, change and deepen. Though I may be slower and do less, I love more and more deeply. And I feel more gratitude than ever. Each day I choose to do something that brings me joy. I like to think that I might have even become a little bit wiser than I was when I was younger. And though there are losses of friends, family, pets, and capabilities that bring me sorrow, there is also a richness to this time of life that I intend to savor and share.
… I have felt that the phrase ‘the full catastrophe’ captures something positive about the human spirit’s ability to come to grips with what is most difficult in life and to find within it room to grow in strength and wisdom. For me, facing the full catastrophe means finding and coming to terms with what is most human in ourselves.
— Jon Kabat-Zinn, Full Catastrophe Living
Though it may be somber and cold outside, the earth is simply resting before awakening to another spring. And I am giving thanks for each day no matter what it brings.
Be still, my soul, and steadfast.
Earth and heaven both are still watching
though time is draining from the clock
and your walk, that was confident and quick,
has become slow.So, be slow if you must, but let
the heart still play its true part.
Love still as once you loved, deeply
and without patience. Let God and the world
know you are grateful. That the gift has been given.— Mary Oliver
May you walk in beauty.
Today’s view from my living room window – a white world with blowing snow
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