Winter Solitude

Winter solitude

in a world of one color,

the sound of wind.

Basho

(translated by Robert Hass)

Peonies in our Yard 2014

The peonies in our yard this year bloomed later

than usual but were worth the wait.

We enjoyed their beauty while it lasted.

After Tropical Storm Arthur went through

with its heavy winds and rain, 

there was nothing left but

petal confetti.  And yet, it too offered

loveliness.

I'm not complaining about a bit of plant destruction, 

especially compared to what happened 

across much of our province

because of Arthur.

Cape Enrage, Albert County NB

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We have relatives visiting from England and did a day tour of the Fundy area yesterday with them.  The weather was co-operative, balmy, great for photo captures of the Cape Enrage area. 

 

Usually, when we're at Cape Enrage the wind is blowing so hard all our photos look like we have starched our hair straight up.  Yesterday was calm.  Our relatives probably think we've been fibbing about the wind.

 

Calm or windy, Cape Enrage is a gorgeous place to spend an afternoon.

Snow and Then More Snow

 

 

 

 

The storm is over (mostly) though wind still gusts into waves and arcs of drift.  There is a three-foot drift at our back door.  The house is surrounded by troughs and waves of snow, like a frozen sea.  The garage door and the barbecue are partially hidden.  It is wild and lovely and a little too much work.

 

 

A Clear Day

 

 

A Clear Day

Wind and rain have eaten the snow.  Splotches of ice on dead grass, ducks feeding on cracked corn and a plastic shopping bag bouncing over the rotting snow are all that is left.  The temperature has dropped; the air bites my skin as I lean out to retrieve the newspaper. 

 

 

The sky is limitless without cloud or haze.  From here, I can see the hills behind the city.  The air is so clear that the edges of buildings, the bark on the trees and even the ice cakes in the river have distinct outlines.  The world is freshly washed and shining.

 



 

I appreciate this crisp mid-winter day and the clarity it offers.

 

 

Words and photos are copyright Carol Steel.

Hanging Outdoor Lights

Hanging Outdoor Lights

Last week, we hung Christmas lights outdoors.  The weather was unusually warm for late November, short balmy days still full of heat.  Surprising. 

The warmth drew us outdoors to begin decorating though we won’t turn the lights on for a while yet.  On the veranda, we placed the bushy evergreen wreath with twinkly white lights; on the pergola, we spread thirty-six feet of rope lights, all in white, all securely fastened.   At the front door, we set up two small evergreen trees covered with tiny white lights.  On the Fat Albert Blue Spruce, we can see from our kitchen windows, we spread out five sets of LED lights in red. 

But five sets weren’t enough.  Fat Albert Blue Spruce has grown; my, how it has grown.  So off we went to the hardware store in a panic.  Would they still have the same lights this year?  They did.  We bought two more sets and laid them among the tree branches, then turned them on to take a look.  Hmmm, not quite right, still too many bare spots.  We went off again to buy one last set.  There, finally full and lush with lights, the tree was looking good.

Today is more like real November weather, cold with bitter wind and a hint of snow in the air, just a hint.  All day the wind has rattled at the windows, buffeted the walls and sent dry oak leaves shooting straight up the sides of the house.  And the wind has thrashed the Fat Albert, unsettling the red lights.  The erratic gusts have redecorated the tree; lights now hang like garlands or have fallen to the branches below forming nests of red bulbs.  Not damaged, just different

Tomorrow, if the wind settles, I’ll drag out my small step stool to extend my height, and my stick with a bent nail on top to extend my reach.   I’ll begin again to nestle the red lights into the tree and corral the strings which are trying to escape, on wings of wind.

Hanging the Christmas lights outdoors often takes more than one attempt each year.  The winter wind entices anything that tries to stay put or tied down, whistling and singing “Come with me.”

Yet, some years, the twinkling lights are just as wonderful when they are hung by the wilful wind.

 

Words and photo are copyright © Carol Steel