I went outside and up the canyon this weekend, to escape the inversion in the valley and see what was going on in the winter.
Turns out there was blue sky and sun and snow going on–a gorgeous winter day.
I was on a trail I hadn’t been on since summer and realized when I got home that I am pretty predictable when it comes to taking pictures. This was yesterday:
And this was at the end of May/beginning of June:
Now:
Then:
I think it’s a good measure of my inner hippie’s strength (and how fast this winter is going) that the contrast between June and December didn’t make me sad. Instead I thought about the bulbs in my yard sleeping under snow, and the wheel of the year, and, of course, this poem from a kid’s poetry compilation:
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.
“We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,”
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.
– Oliver Herford
