Late yesterday I stood watching as the westering sun blazed its final hurrah before slipping below the hill beyond the river. Another day winding down; one more check-marked box on the calendar. February will soon be over and there'll be a fresh page on the calendar on which to start ticking off the passing days. And before March ends, winter will officially bow out and spring will begin ushering in its vernal green resurrection throughout the land.
Day, month, season…all respond to the relentless passage of time. As do old dogs and their masters. Only the river seems exempt, answering more to weather and geography—tirelessly flowing, winking, pouring, burbling, its quite pools a living mirror for reflecting time's changes. As the sun slipped lower I kept my eye on the swirling surface and watched the dwindling light go from rose to copper to gold, as shadows turned an indigo blue.
Yesterday was a good day—sunny and clear, warm enough that a few more crocus opened their cheery yellow blooms. Now I had this lovely kaleidoscope of sunset's light upon the moving water. I was both happy and at peace—so why the twinge of melancholy? I am greatly blessed. My favorite season of the year awaits only a few weeks ahead.
And yet…I find myself dreading all this winding down.
8 comments:
'Saw my first groundhog this morning, munching on the birdseed I had scattered on the ground. It can't be long now.
Scott…
Haven't yet noticed one of my "yard" groundhogs, but my deskside window faces the river—not the bank below the road and greater part of my property which includes the area where the whistlepigs have their holes, and their favorite eating areas. They should have been stirring by now, given our mild weather. In all likelihood they've been about and about here, too, and I've just missed them. Carolyn, over at Roundtop Ruminations, said she saw one this past weekend.
We've had turkey vultures hang around all winter—don't think a month passed when we failed to see them a few times. Skunk cabbage stuck up pinkish-purple spathes in early January, at least 6-7 weeks early.
No doubt, spring isn't far away…maybe even next week!
HI GRIZZ - oh what a beautiful picture of the colors of the river in motion as Winter "winds down". Yes, Spring is close by. I hear the birds singing early morning and I can leave windows open a bit all night. It is lighter later, so soon we will be outside more than inside. Our first Spring here in Clinton - so much I will miss from our home on the Trail, our garden especailly and our first Spring without Mom - she is every where though, in every birds song, and every flower bloomed, every breeze and gentle rain - every lilac in full scent and bloom and every humming bird that feeds and dances. Every new leaf and every promise of Hope that Spring offers. As Winter winds down I feel myself gearing up for all that awaits in nature, life, love and promise.
Love Gail
peace....
Such a beautiful picture. I can almost hear the water swirl.
Gail…
Lovely, lyrical comment. You have not only caught the mood, but captured it with words. You're right, your mother will be there with you in all those moments, and more. You do her proud.
Not as spring-looking here today as yesterday…yet even gray skies and drizzle and cooler temps can't hide that certain something in the air. The vernal breath. Spring is coming up the hill, and those undeniable changes are everywhere.
Joy K…
I never get tired of shooting water photos of "my" river—the changing light and moving current serve up endless variations. I always fail to really do them justice. But still, I love trying to capture the impossible, and then sharing them here. I'm glad you liked the shot.
Please forgive me as I stuggle with envy issues regarding your environment. I am surrounded by 2 roads,an alley and a neighboring home. How I'd enjoy a good river!
We are enjoying a beautiful snow right now. That's something!
Debbie
Debbie…
While this cottage by the river has its share of downsides, the view and surroundings are definitely not not negatives.It is a real blessing. Plus eight or nine months of the year I can pretty easily catch our supper without leaving the yard!
But I've lived in places where that was not the case, and thus fully understand your envy. There are days when I look around at the birds and river and this little stone cottage tucked on the grassy bank, and I'm almost envious of myself. I don't, however, envy you your snow…much as I generally like snow. I'm now in the mood for spring. Not white spring—green spring. Vernal spring. Snowless spring. Going fishing, gathering greens, and photographing wildflowers spring. Nope, keep your snow. I'm good.
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