Winter is cold crispy snow; it is blustering wind and creaking house walls; it is crackling fires and wood-smoke on the air; it is frost sparkled windows and dark leaden skies.
Winter with heavy evergreen brightness and light crystal blue afternoons; it is warm soups on the stove and spicy cakes with coffee; it is Christmas; it is New Years; it is slow days within ones house.
Bright rosy children’s cheeks and red noses to match; it is planning; it is silence; it is bundles of woolen frumpiness and braveness of boots.
Winter is spicy curries and stews; deep reds and dark blues; hot tea and cookies; the radiant heat of a stove.
Flurried whiteness and gentle star dusted nights; It is hidden and secret; plain, stark and austere. It is contrast and seamless binding of earth, water, and air. It is surprisingly bright berries and visiting birds. Winter’s wonder is in its editing and the force of its emphasis. Perhaps that is what makes it a time of illuminations.
©Ilona, Ilona’s Reflecting Pool