In my warm, heavy boots, I walked north along our country lane, heading up toward the mailboxes which are about a quarter of a mail from the house. Snow fell in soft, fat flakes all around me.
As I walked, each bit of color caught my eye. Some color was provided my nature; some by my neighbors.
I reminded myself as I walked that winter, despite what our senses might perceive as evidence to the contrary, is a nurturing season. The heavy blanket of snow insulates the roots of the plants from bitter cold. Boughs and branches cradle their soft catch of snowfall. Eventually, though it seems a long time to wait, all of this snow will melt into the ground providing sustenance to the things that grow here.
A little handmade signpost points up the hill to the home of the farmers whose lands surrounds us on three sides. Wind and weather have torn away the words that gave meaning to this signpost, but it seems to me that this arrow just points me toward home.At sunset I went out again. The air was colder, and the sky lit up with color.
When my oldest daughter, who was out with friends, called to ask if I'd seen the moon, I went out once more. The moon was astonishly large and lustrous as it rose on the eastern edge of the sky. My camera could not capture the white luminosity, nor the visible features, of the moon's face, but caught instead its shine and glow.
photos by Aisling, January 10, 2009