Thursday, January 27, 2011

a little winter walk

this is the view . . .

in late january during a small snowfall
looking out one of my classroom windows.

what a gift for my kids and i to see trees every time we look outside.


at the end of the day
my walk home takes me across a bridge.

the river is still open, but ice has very slowly built out from the sides



on the other side of the bridge there are ducks.
they don't seem to care what season it is . . .


some nights i take a right turn after the bridge.

i cross the railway tracks.


and follow a route
that takes me around what is known locally as little lake.
it's not a lake at all but a widening of the river.

no matter.
it's beautiful all the same.



and on those lovely nights when the wind is soft,
the air is gentle
and i have no idea what time it is
and really have no interest . . .

i stop right here
for a while


i'm sure you understand

35 comments:

Joanna said...

Hi Steven,
I enjoyed your walk home so much. Especially fond of the ice on the river with its shadow. And that's not to mention the incredible header photo. I mean it about the book of photos and poems.

alaine@éclectique said...

You live in a lovely place and yes, to look out on trees, instead of concrete, bricks and other windows!

Thank you for taking us on your walk home and where you sit to listen to those whispers...

Elisabeth said...

I don't understand, Steven, not all that cold, to me unimaginable, how could you stop in it, despite the beauty? I think I'd be shivering. I'm sure you dress against the elements but such elements, to me from Australia it's almost unthinkable.

Annie said...

I love that phrase - and I have no idea what the time is and really have no interest. Gorgeous shots.

steven said...

joanna - the header photograph is a strip of frost on one of my front windows. it was so strange - it lay like a fifteen cm wide ribbon horizontally. i love the blue. it comes from the winter blue of that day. steven

steven said...

alaine - i have looked at those trees for twenty years now. at one time there were willows mixed in with them but they got taken down. the little bench by the "lake" is always available in the wintertime! thanks for coming along with me. steven

steven said...

elisabeth - on the day i took these pictures it was around twenty below with a really good wind blowing across the lake but from the west. happily the bench faces slightly east so the wind flows past like a river. yes, i dress for it. four layers from the waist up. three layers fromt he waist down. if you're moving it's not hard to deal with. the risk is contained in sweating..... steven

steven said...

annie - it doesn't happen very often - or often enough!! steven

Pauline said...

and now I can sit right there with you and think poetic thoughts - you live in a beautiful place!

Reya Mellicker said...

I do understand. Indeed.

Love your blue shadow on the water.

Golden West said...

I loved joining you, looking out the window and walking along - let's do it more often! Thanks for going to the beach with me!

ellen abbott said...

I loved this walk, steven, but it still looks very cold to me.

SY said...

walking home is supposed to be boring and irritating..
but I would take this route any day

Meri said...

The blue tones are so beautiful and wintery and melancholy and enticing. And I love the frost shot in the banner.

steven said...

pauline - i'm very very fortunate yes! steven

steven said...

ha reya - i knew you would - understand! steven

steven said...

golden west - i bet that looking at these photos you can see why i drool and mumble incoherently when i visit your beach!! steven

steven said...

ellen - it's cold. no two ways about it! steven

steven said...

hello sy! i have a few routes home but this one is my fave just because it gets me near water - frozen and otherwise - and also because it's very alone a lot of the time. steven

steven said...

hey meri - i love the blues of winter - especially when they don't get too deep inside me!! steven

aguja said...

Your fabulous post immediately brought to mind Robert Frost's poem - Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening:

'My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.'

Evocative.

Linda Sue said...

Sitting here with my second cup of tea, warm house, lights on, a snoozing pup at my feet- I like traveling along with you in your frozen land, through blue light and black skeletal trees- you make it so enjoyable and easy and sweet. I have lived the reality of 20 below with a wind chill factor of deep freeze- I have bundled up but never , in my reality, have I ever stopped and pondered- thought if I stopped i would freeze in place- how you and the ducks do it is well beyond my reckoning.
Beautiful shots- the river is gorgeous.

Liza Ursu said...

on the other side of the bridge there are ducks.
they don't seem to care what season it is . . .
I LOVE THAT!

I sure do understand steven,
smiles.

Tess Kincaid said...

This post made me very happy.

Jo said...

Thank you for taking me along with you today.

Your trees are wonderful, healthy, and strong. It's obvious they love you.

They were eager to talk to me. They tell me they are the "Statesmen of the North." I can see why.

Give them a respectful pat for me next time you pass by, will you?

(btw, that bridge looks a little dicey...do be careful!)

steven said...

aguja - frost's poem hovers over any writing i undertake in the winter. thanks for bringing it to the forefront. steven

steven said...

linda sue - there's something about the moment of stopping that allows for moving beyond its surface features and i'm not even sure how to put that more fully into words but it's right there if you want it has been my experience of late. i think it's a letting go. an accepting. steven

steven said...

liza the ducks and trees and water don't really have a care about the terms of their existence. they really don't. they just deal with it as it is. steven

steven said...

tess - then some of my own joy passed your way! steven

steven said...

jo - there are so many trees in my passing, small and large, soft and stately, kind and grim and they all know my eyes because i can't not see them. some know my voice as i share thoughts. touching - well some know my bare palm, creased across their wintercold bodies and i say "see you soon". because the green flickering that is them selves is so deeply tucked away inside! steven

hope said...

Love the trees! And that icy blue should make me cold but it just seems so..peaceful. :)

Dan Gurney said...

You walk to work!! This post calls to mind how much we give up with/for our automobiles and our drivers licenses: We give up our rooted sense of belonging and our connection and commitment to our place in this world. Thank you for speaking up for your place and for being in it.

steven said...

hey hope - i'm a tree admirer also. that route home is really peaceful!!! steven

steven said...

dan i get a ride to school when the roads are too icy to bike. i walk home - eight km. it's an amazing walk with ample opportunity to reflect on every detail of the day and to prepare myself for home. steven

Kay said...

totally.....