January Days

A cloudless day in January can be a glorious thing. As I write this post, the sky is clear and palest blue; on the horizon is a rosy flush, turning gold and apricot as the sun approaches. There, it's up, and the shadowy blue-grey snow outside is lightening visibly every second. If the weather holds, the day to come will be bright blue and sparkling white, with tracery of trees standing out clear and sharp against the sky. (Some of them not so sharp after all; last year's long autumn coaxed many to bud out before their time, and their outlines are still feathery.)

Then there are days like last Sunday, when I took these photos. Clouds lay like a heavy blanket above the earth; a fine dry snow was falling, growing heavier as I walked, blurring and softening the lace of the trees. The world seemed a grey and brown sort of place, but there was still beauty to be found.

Tiny dried blossoms:

The miracle of snow on my jacket...

...and on the ground:

An avenue of lacy trees:

Lichen on bark (with more of that lovely snow):

Ghosts of Queen Anne's Lace:

Marvelously sculptural dried flowers:

Bud-beaded twigs:

An intricately-veined leaf in the snow, with bonus berries attached:

Birdsong from the tangle of branches around a pond:

On my way home, a train whistle sounded from the next town over. In summer, that sound would make me long to be out riding my bike. On a cold grey January day, it made me grateful for a warm house at the end of the road, and I walked a little faster to get there more quickly.

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I'm sorry this blog has been silent for so long. When my dad died last year, the urge to write and create seemed to die along with him. But time really does heal wounds, and the creative (and communicative) urge is finally coming back.

How have your January days been?

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