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On the edge
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The Ecotone wiki site is a collection of essays on "place" and its meaning to the writers. My other bursts of place-idity: Books and place |
As phenomena go, this one may be too well known. The snowfall has finally stopped. The day, still cloudy, is coming to an end. Outside, the wind has fallen still and a layer of snow thick enough to cover all the blemishes on the lawn has coated everything. And as the failing light gives up its power to cast a shadow, a lovely, ethereal phenomenon takes hold. All the world turns blue, the cool cobalt blue of clear skies, and the snowy ground seems to give back the light that the clouds no longer provide. Tree branches, the swing set and the bushes stand out black, in sharp individual silhouette, and the little marks where an overstressed twig dropped its load or a squirrel hustled to a new hiding place disappear. Then, like the expiring day's last breath, the wind rises. The daylight fades further, the lights go on and the world shoulders us into ordinary night. Afterward, it is possible to remember the Christmas cards whose illustrators tried to copy the scene, to realize that what you've just seen is as commonplace as Baroque music this time of year. But during that hushed moment you can't help but suspend thought and watch, hushed yourself, as if the vision were new. If I remember correctly, the day ends no more than seven minutes or so later on Dec. 15 than on Dec. 21 in our temperate zone. The change of season speaks to my body this year, though. All I want to do is sleep. I can't help but wonder if I would feel it sooner if I lived farther north, or if I would be immunized if I moved to the South. I suppose it doesn't matter; I live where I live and I have to cope with it as best I can. And there's always more coffee. |
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