She rises before sunrise and brews up a lovely mug of espresso in the DiLongi, then lurches into the study to write a blog post.
There are one or two recent photos she thinks are OK, but she can't for the life of her figure out what to say about them. The words simply do not come. For someone who spends so much time with her nose in a book and thinking about word origins, the absence is a shocking state of affairs.
Perhaps the cold has something to do with it, could her brain have frozen over? When she and Beau ventured outside for the first time this morning, dark clouds obscured the sky, and the thermometer registered a balmy -38 degrees Celsius, a temperature just about as cold when expressed in Fahrenheit degrees. It snowed all night, and there is at least a foot of snow in the driveway and on the cobblestones at the front of the house.
She wishes she and her companion had been able to see the full moon and total lunar eclipse on Sunday evening, that skies had been clear and they had been able to gaze on all the splendiferous red up there in the darkness. There were dark clouds from here to there, and they saw it not. Shucks.
One thing about this winter - the village is growing some fabulous icicles. When sunlight shines through them, they shimmer and dazzle, and they seem to hold the whole universe within. One can almost forget what a nippy undertaking it is, this glacial business of trying to capture them with a camera.
1 comment:
I'm always in awe of you venturing into the cold. Tell me, does your camera lens ever get foggy from the change of temp? Or have you a technique that avoids it, or maybe it is just too dry there? I think your work is wonderful, and send praises for all your words, whether inspired or just journaling what you're doing. Keep on keeping on.
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