A Walk into the Twilight
When the day draws to a close and twilight fills with shadows, I see a new dimension emerges.
A universe where dreams and reality meet.
“Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.”
by Robert Louis Stevenson
“You are always able to connect with the stars, no matter where you are. ” ~ Sjón
Winter is not a season, it’s a celebration.
Becoming a White House
Snow was falling…
The snow began to fall again, drifting against the windows, politely begging entrance and then falling with disappointment to the ground.
Beautiful Disaster by Jamie McGuire
Ice Fun in the Evening Glow
We grasp a few apples from a wooden box, on our way down the stairs. The snowy roads are quiet, and the snow sparkles in the low sun. We park our bikes up against the trees leaning over the frozen lake.
There are all kind of people out skating. Old and youngsters and those in between.
We can hear the children screaming when one of them gets caught on the frozen lake.
It’s a unified image of joy and desire for life.
The only light on the lake is the sun setting in the horizon and a few street lamps up upon the hill. Yet, it never gets completely dark. Later on the moon lights up the snow, and makes the evening unforgettable.
It is only when the cold overwhelms us that we find our way home after an experience of a lifetime.
This wonderful evocative painting from the Danish painter Anders Andersen-Lundby, refreshed one of many outings I had with my brother, when we were children.
When we had given our bodies to the wind,
And all the shadowy banks, on either side,
Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still
The rapid line of motion; then at once
Have I, reclining back upon my heels,
Stopp’d short, yet still the solitary Cliffs
Wheeled by me, even as if the earth had roll’d
With visible motion her diurnal round;
Behind me did they stretch in solemn train
Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watch’d
Till all was tranquil as a dreamless sleep.
William Wordsworth from “The Prelude”
The Shortest Day
I did this walk with awe on a hard winter day in 2011. Every part of the landscape had turned itself into an adventure due to a heavy snowfall during the night.
Happy Winter Solstice
I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.
~ Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass
The Magical Power of Snow
The hoarse cries of a raven put me in adventure mood. A few kilometres further on, only the creaking of snow under my shoes breaks the silence, This is an amazing day after the blizzard and the light makes my heart sing.
I’m grateful for being alive.
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the withered air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden’s end.
The sled and traveler stopped, the courier’s feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, and housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
The Snow-Storm by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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