A wet day in the Lanark Highlands yesterday and a dark one for the most part. Heavy cloud was the order of the day, and there was no sunrise or sunset to be seen, just endless twilight in all directions. A small lake of blue sky appeared in the west around three in the afternoon as we closed the gate and headed in to make tea.The first snows of the season had fallen overnight, and lacy scraps remained in crevices here and there, but the white stuff was undergoing a swift transformation, condensing and rising into the air like fine silvery smoke. A light mist rose from the Clyde river at every bend in its winding journey, playing over the trees, fields and old stones. Here and there in the mist were the faint outlines of browsing deer and wild turkeys.
On such days, a pearly gray stillness lies over everything, and perhaps the expression wabi sabi describes it as well as anything can be said to do that. There is a kind of tranquil melancholy; a non-attachment beyond all coming and going which honors tathata or suchness, the turning of the seasons and the perfect spontaneous unfolding of the world around us.
My old bones are not dancing as they consider the coming winter, but the doddering scribe and photographer feels something quite different. She remembers the sound of snow falling among the trees, and she rejoices.
5 singing pebbles:
I love the silent "sound" of snow falling too...the blessed hush and softening of all the edges of the world beyond my windows.
Your writing really touched me this morning and the drops of water spilling off the single leaf surrounded in darkness...exquisite.
gentle steps
I remember the long gray days and snow for days on end. All this and more from my days in Maine. And so, back to Florida. It wasn't the gray days or the snow that made me run, it was the wicked ice. My old bones did not want to end in cracked heap.
Wishing you good things to do indoors on such gray days. To read, to paint, to write and dream.
Or you might come south for part of the winter. :) :)
Good post.
I've been reading your posts for a little over a year now and I adore every one. Especially your posts for autumn and winter, I live vicariously through your descriptions of the turning seasons. Living on the coast of central California, we really only have summer, I thank you for your great words, beautiful pictures and the sense of place you create in each post.
these old bones aren't either! as the rains approached Puget Sound this weekend, i began to ache in advance of its arrival. soon i found myself getting out of bed in the mornings looking much like someone who had been in a recent car crash! aging has not been a barrel of fun!
Cate dear,
You MUST visit this blog: http://farmlass.blogspot.com - todays post "Embracing the fog...." is awesome. The portals, the gateways, the stone fences, the garden, the fall colors....and the embracing fog.
You will love it!
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