I knew this week would be “a week,” but I wasn’t quite aware of what a week it would be. It’s truly making this time unique, to say the least. As always, the quiet contemplation of walking provides clarity. Space to breathe. You never quite know how much you need a walk outside until you get outside and walk. Only a few minutes in the cold air and you can see so much more clearly. I saw the waning afternoon light hitting a river birch overlooking the Hudson River. And looking west, I saw this tree’s roots covered in tidal frost as the sun lowered through the trees.
I saw light on the hummocks of grass, flooded with water and ice. These clumps of swamp grass are always so interesting in winter–they get covered in snow and ice, forming lumps everywhere in the boggy areas. I think they are just as nice flattened down like mops, adding not only visual texture but also high places to step on over the water.
I saw the light hitting a stone wall covered in pale green lichens. Then there’s that field of golden switchgrass threaded with red wineberry canes that really lights up with a blue sky behind it. I love the palette of winter, and maybe one day I’ll get an actual camera to capture it in better detail.
And the ice! On Sunday afternoon, it was very cold and the ice formations were incredible. In particular, the ice on some downed logs crossing the creek. Hanging pendulums of ice lined the crisscrossing trunks. Water barreled down, and mist rose in the sun. Light sparkled everywhere in all the crystalline formations of ice. I sat there for a while and soaked it all in.