I sit by the window, sun streaming in, brighter than before
I sit by the window, coffee in hand, begging it to protect me from chill winds finding it’s way through a crack in the door
I sit by the window, give way to dreaming, trying to cope
I crack open the window … earth awakens … at last there is hope!
Living in New England we are governed by the seasons. With each change comes a wrangling and a writhing unknown to those in more temperate climes. In the warm and bright days of summer, our mood is joyful, we raise our glass and celebrate its glory, revel in its bounty. As winter approaches we easily turn our attention to thoughts of calm relaxing days filled with hot chocolate and stillness, content to watch the snow softly fall from the sky.
I began to realize just how much my mood was affected by the seasons when I lived in Northern Baja. The days there were quite consistent for most of the year. From March to November one could pretty much count on the same thing every day. No need for the weather man. No need to look and judge his prediction. After 5o years or more of wild, unpredictable extremes in the Northeast it was a welcome respite.
Still life photography enlightened me even more. I’ve studied the light coming in my kitchen window throughout the seasons over the last few years. The quality of the light will change the choices I make, which items I choose, the colors I gravitate to, my camera settings. I cannot help but find my mood reflected in my work. Usually pleased with the results, the mood seems appropriate to the season.
Come March, a whole other animal is present. It is a season in itself, unlike any other. It’s wonky and weird. Sometimes hopeful with spring-like days, other times wild and unexpected, blizzards and below 0 temperatures. It’s impossible to feel calm and settled in March. And although I have made my peace with it, I am not in love it. The light is constantly changing and I feel equally as wonky and weird as the weather, fidgety, anxious, desperate for spring.
Why does something so unpleasant precede such beauty? I won’t pretend to understand it.
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