winter / 7 December 11
Winter is funny, the way it happens gradually—just like aging—it startles you one day. The texture of the air changes. Shadows appear where before there was light. And when the snows come, the branches sag closer and closer to the frozen ground. The trees go gray, the sky goes gray, even the dirt, the walkways, the streets—all gray. And when a cardinal or a blue jay appears, you feel such deep joy, as if color were just invented.
Previous Jan Donley Posts on my blogs:
Lost & Found
9 / 11 Retrospective [also on Quotidian Kit]
Dagmar's Birthday [also on Quotidian Kit]
Everyone Loves Stories
There On the Edge of Autumn
Sleight of Hand
The Little Door
Happy Birthday Coyote!
AND MOST RECENTLY:
The House You're Standing In . . . or Holding in the Palm of Your Hand