snow – Carlo Centeno

Cold Light

I am an odd person out. I’m certain I shared this in a previous post, namely that winter, the shorter days, the snow and the cold don’t bother me the way I know it really bothers a lot of other people. However, when freezing rain, relentless winds from the north and sleet show up, doubts perk up about my relationship with winter.
My enjoyment of this season is greatly enhanced by a few other small details: no biting insects, most nasty smells are frozen in place, it’s easier to layer up to stay warm versus shedding attire to get cool. Fireplaces are invaluable for the way they comfort our weary minds and bodies.
And then there’s the light. By late October, shorter days manifest that longing for days that end at 9:30 in the evening, versus 4:15 in the afternoon. But for me on any given day, winter light can be nothing short of amazing [well, to my eyes anyway].

For those enamored with snow, it doesn’t matter how you enjoy it, just as long as you get out to enjoy it. Snowshoes. Boards. Skis [alpine and cross country]. Insulated tie-up boots [aka “moon boots”]. Building snow forts, a snowman/woman/sculpture. Tubes, sleds, and toboggans. They all generate smiles at one time or another.

Even the most ardent worshipper of other seasons can understand why winter can be a favorite. There’s a sense of solitude, even in the busiest of urban environments. Indeed most folks are rushing—as it’s often said—to get out of the cold, to get inside to warm up. And yet there are those who look to get out to be invigorated by the cold air. When it’s cold, it’s only natural that you move to stay warm: motion generates heat and heat consumes calories and the consumption of calories means soothing cups of hot coffee, hot chocolate, hot soup, hot tea among other choices awaiting your selection. Admittedly, it is bliss having such hot consumables balance out the chill at the end of a day. The yin-yang of warm & cold becomes apparent.

A cold drink can bookend a hot summer day just as a hot toddy can on a cold winter day. This radiating cocktail of hot water, lemon, honey and a bit of whiskey is also hydrating, indeed soothing since it’s a drink perfect for sipping.

Cold light, winter light, is especially sharp when it reaches across a landscape as far as you can see. The shadows are longer and details stand out like bas-relief etched into tree trunks. On ski trails, the tendrils left by carving skis add to that dimension of depth, or even height, as if lengths of dark thread randomly lie atop the snow.

Winter’s light—especially later in the day—can feel cathartic and the sun’s warmth enhances this catharsis. A cup of hot chocolate, a banana, a comfy, large Maine Adirondack chair and a pit fire are all good company.

Snow Dome

I was in a different bubble yesterday, away from the angst, the uncertainties, the frustration and disappointment of recent times. It was wonderfully quiet save the waterfall cascading over an edge some 20-yards away. That rushing sound had a soft, roundness to it, a barrier or suppressor of sorts that kept disheartening sentiments at bay.

I was in a snow dome.

With 4-inches already on the ground, a sudden burst of flakes quietly fell, quickly dusting tree limbs as well as foot prints left by other visitors: someone in a Sorel, perhaps a size 10 1/2 which lay opposite the basket imprints from a hiking staff. Only one set of human footprints was there, the other prints from a deer, a squirrel, a group of birds and others I wasn’t sure of or missed altogether.

This kind of place—where the simplest of what is before and around you—covers the burrs of unhealthy tensions and feelings. Indeed, a blanket comes to mind when snow covers a landscape. On some days—for me anyway—it’s more like a comforter. A comforter does not align with what snow feels like. Visually however, is a different matter. There is loft, an expanse of uniformity and balance that can remind one of a comforter. The solitude, the absence of man-made noise, reinforces that sense of comfort. Within my snow dome comes a particular calm that allows me to think and feel purposefully and openly. I consider possibilities beyond the familiar and rote. I dwell beyond the probable, but lie in the realm of things that are possible. As Martin Luther King, Jr. noted:

“Put yourself in a state of mind where you say to yourself, ‘here is an opportunity for me to celebrate like never before by my own power, my own ability to get myself to do what is necessary.'”

The saying, “this quiet, this silence is deafening…” runs contrary to my time in this snow dome. I feel reassured, positive, even happy. Embraced by such stillness, you can hear yourself think. You can engage all your senses with minimal distraction. You come face-to-face with who you are and in spite of yourself, you can choose to dwell in what should have happened—and thus remain predictably the same as always—or take a contrarian step, one that could make a difference. I’ll let Martin Luther King, Jr. have the last word. He has captured an enduring leitmotif of the human condition:

“The soft-minded man always fears change. He feels security in the status quo and has an almost morbid fear of the new. For him, the greatest pain is the pain of something new.”

The [early] Morning After

In less than a week, the northeast USA got hit with another storm. While many are so tired of winter, many more are really done with snow and the cold and wanting spring to arrive. Now.

With close to 10 inches [25 cm] of wet, heavy, snow falling overnight, the next morning did not disappoint for people like me.

With nothing but stillness and silence all around me this morning, I thought of Dan Gurney, an incredible achiever by any standard, who said something to the effect of, “If you see something and can make it beautiful, but choose not to, what does that say about you?”

Beautiful Cold

It’s not difficult to dislike the brutal cold [7F with -10 windchill]. In spite of that, I find a quality that transcends visual beauty.

The cold makes things hold fast. It’s a natural form of “stop-motion” for inanimate objects. And a few animated ones as well vis-a-vis, birds stoically perched in a tangle of shrubs enduring both the cold and the wind.

For a brief instance—and I mean brief—I’m part of the landscape with camera in hand. The cold forces me to hunker down, to pull tighter the collar of my jacket, the hat on my head, the gloves that now feel powerless to the temperature as my fingers start to numb.

Winter is a beautiful time of year for me.

In Tandem

For all the complaints and whining about winter, well, others prefer to do something other than wish for warmer days or no snow. Why waste the days feeling grumpy? This is a simple study of warmth found in the cold of winter.

Winter: The four seasons’ “bad” brand?

From saturated colors, to shades of grey, that’s one way to describe the transition of Autumn to Winter. Of the four seasons, winter often gets a bad rap. As a brand, winter’s attributes of bone-chilling cold, freezing rain, sleet, burst water pipes, vehicles that won’t start, cancellations [schools, meetings, performances, transportation, e.g.] among others play into that season’s unfair position or perception. Our modern way of living has made us unhardy if not too soft for nature’s rigorous character made evident in the months of November through March.

Winter needs some repositioning [or reminding] of its more positive attributes. And there are such attributes, which if we are honest amongst ourselves would certainly concur that, indeed, these qualities are demonstrably acceptable. Such qualities can be nurturing, calming, relaxing and invigorating. All this on any given day in winter. For me, all those qualities or characteristics manifest during and after a major snowfall.

I have fond memories of winters past. Ski trips, sled runs, hikes into the forest, walks with my family. In this blanket of quiet and stillness, I derive a prana that matches that of an ocean breeze on a sun-draped beach. How can that be? Think yin and yang. Consider polar opposites and how without one, the other won’t exist. Yin and yang coexist. I find a personal harmony in winter more so than any other season [fall is a very close second, actually].

Snow and cold act like acoustic panels whereby irrelevant sounds don’t surround or even reach me. Horns, revving engines at stop lights, really loud music escaping open car windows, none touch a calm within me. As the snow piles up, the world becomes monochrome with a color I feel as “equilibrium grey.” This equilibrium can be so complete that it’s only failing is the glow emitted from street signs, traffic signals and reflective panels. All else is in the domain of snow. Every now and then I read about cleansing diets and I’ve heard that they can be very beneficial for one’s general health. Winter has a cleansing attribute. Its stillness points us to a calm; its quiet to a inimitable level of solitude. The expanse of snow covers the landscape, in effect hiding from us things that aren’t positive, while protecting those things that are.

Yes, there several good qualities about winter…