Seasonal Shifting on the Horizon

The snow banks in Boston have come down to knee high from waist high. Walking to the gym this morning, it almost seemed that winter was over. It's not, of course. In New England it goes on awhile into what would be spring in other places. 

I am not complaining. I like winter. 

Though when we enter that transitory period between winter and spring, when the white melts away to black underneath, and ponds of rock-salted muck appear, I think everyone's ready to fast-forward.

Before winter does disappear, I want to mention one of its unexpected beauties. 

A couple times over the past weeks, as I've been walking to work after a snowfall, the wind has stirred the snow from the roofs of buildings along my path and thrown a swirl of crystals up against the morning sun. The effect is stunning, like a daylight fireworks display. 

The mundane canyons downtown transform to alpine peaks for an instant, and I feel confirmed in my willingness to notice such brief displays. I wonder if anyone but me has looked up from our determined burrowing toward the day's pending work.

Season to Come

In the middle of winter, it's nice to remember what's ready to happen as the sun progresses back to the north. Magnolias along Comm Ave in Boston are, I am sure, busy preparing buds for the blossoming times ahead. Something nice to contemplate when there is a foot of snow on the ground!

Sunday Serenity

To be inside on a Sunday morning, with coffee, while it snows outside, is among the most serene and subtle blessings. It's so easy to forgo appreciation for such a simple and essential pleasure . . . to be, in this moment, safe and warm and able to appreciate, contemplate. 

I walked through the Public Garden late last night, nearing 2 AM, when the snow had just begun to fall in large, swirling flakes . . . creating a sense of buoyancy and light. Though I was distracted, unfortunately . . . victim to the avaricious mind . . . there was still a sense of balance and beauty and even magic infusing my stubborn consciousness.

This morning I am trying to just be, in this moment, appreciative and pleased to watch the snow drift past the giant blue, monolithic Hancock Tower. It's like finding oneself in the midst of a snow globe, a whirl of white and quiet. A city transformed, a mind paused, in the presence of a snowfall. 

Creche Art

Passing by in Cambridge yesterday on a walk, I was attracted by this contrast of colors against the snow's white. I don't really have a religious response to record. More just an observation that people's compulsion to express beliefs (whatever those may be) in art (however kitschy) continues in this new millennium. And that seems a good thing. 

A Bit of Wisdom from Our Poet Laureate

My brother, Walter, sent me a link to an article on Kay Ryan, from the Christian Science Monitor in 2004. There's much to glean from this brief piece, but the best bit in my opinion is at the end.

Ms. Ryan offers a bit of advice, a bit of perspective, a bit of inspiration, when she observes, "If there is a [literary] game of sorts, you can win by staying home and doing the writing. Good work can make its way in this culture."

Advice I intend to heed on this snowy Sunday.

The World Has Gone White Tonight

Snow

The world in this place has gone 

white tonight. The waves 

on the Atlantic have given

themselves to the Arctic pulse 

that's infused our section of coast. 

Crystalline confection, lifted 

on the currents that sort themselves

around the city's towers. Finding

a brick surface, the reticent grass . . .

the frozen breath expanding 

across the lagoon's shallows.    

Even the sky has lost 

its ambition. Let the city sleep

in heaven's pale mystery, quiet 

beneath the gown, until morning.

  

Things Could Always Be Worse (or Better)!

From the last "great" blizzard to hit Boston in early 2005!

Wonderful Winter

This image is from a few Decembers back. Just enough snow to transform the landscape of the Fens, and the good fortune for the skies to clear enough at sunset to give the whole scene a glow that's best described just by looking . . . so I'll be quiet now.