It's early November, the 9th to be exact. I'm sitting in my studio looking out on the world. Snowflakes are falling. I catch myself humming, "Oh Happy Days", sarcastically of course, not as it was meant, as what I'm looking out on is the beginning of winter, six months of cold miserable weather before the crocus and daffodils bloom.
Now, I can be forgiven for this bit of blasphemy as I've suffered 70 plus years of the white stuff. Endless shovelling. Of course, some of those years, those of my youth, weren't all about hating snow, and a seemingly everlasting winter. There were times when I enjoyed playing in the snow, but then I grew up, got old. For many of the elderly winter in Canada can be downright miserable, and involve long periods of isolation. Getting out and about runs the danger of slipping and falling, resulting in fractures from which, often, there's no coming back. So, more often than not many of the elderly sit quietly and wonder...................
The Winter Of My Life.
One snowy morning
late in the winter of my life
while watching snowflakes falling
I found myself musing.
Will I see the willows bloom,
will I see the geese fly home,
Will I hear the robin sing,
or will I,
before the warmth of spring,
go home?
Will my parents,
sister,
my family one and all,
be there to greet me,
or will my soul,
my very being
fade?
Will I be but a memory,
fleeting at best,
before
eternal rest?
All questions unanswered,
as I watch
the snowflakes falling
on our garden wall.
EAS
If there's something positive to say about winter I have to say that it allows one time to think one's youth and of time spent........
It’s the first of January 2016. It’s growing dusk. It’s snowing and its cold.
Across the street the neighbours 10 year old is slapping pucks into an empty net.
It reminds me of when I was young, so many years ago. I’m skating on the rink that Mr. Brooks made at Sixth Street Public School, my school, it’s dark, it’s snowing lightly, and it’s really cold. I don’t notice the cold and the darkness because I’m living a dream. I’m the Rocket, Rocket Richard. I’m wearing the Montreal Canadian hockey sweater and I’m skating before a cheering crowd. Stick handling the puck down the ice I slap a blazing shot into the boards. Then, in the distance I hear my mother call for me to get home for supper! But it’s not my mother, it’s my wife of 50 years, and then I’m back in my study writing, and the neighbour’s boy has gone in the house, and the dreams of two boys will have to wait until tomorrow.
And so, it begins.........
WINTER
Cold,
gale force
winds from off the Bay
toss
white capped waves,
onto wind swept shores.
In the forest leaves flutter,
and blow away.
Flurries drift
from a stormy sky,
and cling to wind-shaped pines.
Birds hide in sheltered places.
Ice forms on standing water.
A setting sun breaks through the clouds,
and sinks below a grey horizon.
Darkness descends.
All grows silent.
Winter is on the way.
EAS
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| First Painting - Birch Stump with Snow Watercolour |
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| Downy Woodpecker Watercolour Painting |
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| Red-breasted Nuthatch with Snow covered White Pine Watercolour |
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