Monday, May 4, 2009
Winter. A Murmur of Unease and Frost
I look forward to winter with a very slight murmur of dread. The sort of murmur that is a paper dry rattle in the DNA. A shifting. A disturbance. Winter. A memory of ice. Snow. Mammoths. Glaciers heaving and grumbling. Whiteness driving pain into the bones of purple hands. There is an unease. There is beauty.
The first frosts.
Ice crystals on railings
Fogged up windows.
Sky, a fragile blue.
Leaves like stained glass windows.
Trees on fire.
The photos were taken this morning and yesterday morning, all at our place or within 50 meters of it. The "stained glass leaves" are a wild plum tree. The rose is might be Dorothy Perkins; the shrub with red berries is a Catoniaster.