Spring is late this year. But today it is raining. The trees are dark, wet; stark against the remaining snow. They are burgeoning, their sap is running, silently. Signs of spring will soon become apparent, but not quite yet. Silence reigns.
The rain reveals patches of grass at the ditch. Those blades rise up like a morning yawn and stretch. Finally they are being released from the burden of months of heavy snow. The fields remain covered, still asleep, waiting for their time. It won’t be long now. This rain will help.
Soon the water will be rushing to find the river. Its well worn path familiar , changeable, and soon to be surging with life, action, release, towards the flow.
I cross the bridge and the river below shows signs of breakup. A dark, meandering streak insinuates itself down the river’s centre. It wandering from side to side, like a drunk. Spring breakup is on its way. Patterns in the ice will emerge like maps of our frozen country, intricate and full of promise.
|winter dusk 12×24″|