It could be the wild and somewhat melancholy pleasure that comes in looking at expanses of snow demarcated by rocks, trees and hills, nary a building in sight. It could be Zen notions of emptiness and impermanence (anicca), stirred up by the song the north wind sings as it scours the hills, sculpting random waves and abstract shapes as it passes over them. It could be the inky blue of the deep shadows that lie over and around everything. It could be an unexpressed desire for the order and containment, a vague and inchoate yearning for the realms that always seem to beckon beyond summits and slopes.
In winter, landscape reveals itself to an intrepid wanderer as it does at no other time during the year. The true contours of the countryside are visible, and she can trace its rocky bones with her eyes, feel the earth's peaceful sleep and share its slow dreams, sometimes even glimpse the shape of the springtime to come (although spring seems far away on such a day as this). There is music in the wind, and there are astonishing swaths of color in the snow and shadows. Who knew that blue came in so many entrancing shades?
There was no profound rhyme or reason for this weekend's sojourn on the hill. I was home among the rocks and snow people, and oh, the perfect light...
6 comments:
This is the season of the best light, though we experience it the fewest hours of the day. :-)
This is so serene but just a little scary in its isolation.
I think perhaps the frantic quality of people shopping and partying is related to the shortness of daylight. We be animals still.
Supremely gorgeous!
Oh my. The light in this photo is so beautiful. Thank you!
What a beautiful picture!
Post a Comment