One of those odd January intervals when temperatures climb, the sun retreats behind dense grey cloud for a few days, and the leaden skies deliver steady heavy rains without ceasing. . . .It feels strange to be walking Cassie in a trenchcoat and duck boots at a time of year when I would usually be wearing a heavy parka, ski pants, mukluks and heavy gloves. This is not the sort of weather a budding digital photographer looks forward to, but I am trying not mutter and whine about it. During these dark days, we seem to exist in perpetual twilight, and I find myself longing for a return to January's proper northern persona, that of deep cold, blue skies and brilliant sunshine. When the sun appeared (for all of five minutes) yesterday morning, I rushed to the back door to snap a quick picture of this far eastern corner of the old deck. This is the first place to be touched by sunlight on winter days when the sun deigns to make an appearance, and it is the corner of the garden to which my eyes automatically go in the morning when I totter out to the kitchen to make coffee.
This morning I am remembering all those golden summer mornings when I awakened before first light and welcomed the sunrise out on the deck myself, sunlight slanting across the old boards, temple bells swaying gently in the breeze, coffee and a good book on the little table in front of me and birdsong all around.
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