"Every year the snow sets me dreaming;......add logs to the stove and widen the draft. Sit in a chair looking south into blue twilight that arrives earlier every day -- as the sky flakes and densens [sic], as the first clear flakes float past the porch's wood to light on dirt of the driveway and on brown frozen grass or dry stalks of the flower border. They seem tentative and awkward at first, then in a hastening host a whole brief army falls, white militia paratrooping out of the close sky over various textures, making them one. Snow is white and gray, part and whole, infinitely various yet infinitely repetitious, soft and hard, frozen and melting, a creaking underfoot and a soundlessness. But first of all it is the reversion of many into one. It is substance, almost the idea of substance, that turns grass, driveway, hayfield, old garden, log pile...into the one white."
Donald Hall, Seasons At Eagle Pond, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1987.
(To view larger image, please click on photo. Taken January 21, 2010.)
Note: The author appears to have invented some words; however, his imagery feels true ~ lw
