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| winter in the Pacific Northwest |
Grey and dismal it is, indeed. Damp and dark, too. That's winter where I live. The days are short and the nights are deeply black and the daylight might be promising until it's obscured by thick overcast.
Dead. The leaves are dead and the flowers are dead. The succulents are in a holding pattern and skeletons of trees flank us all. The evergreens are even lack-luster in the poor excuse for daylight. Everything has a grey cast, like a great shadow laying on the landscape.
It would seem that winter is the longest season of all. Drenching drizzle and coastal mist dims everything starting in late October. November, December and January feel the cold seeping into every crack and crevice. In February, the drizzle becomes slick and icy as grey-blue fingers tighten their grip. Unending greyness...the grey sky matches the grey water that matches the grey concrete. And we all just plod through our days ever-watching for the inevitable.
March always finds us wishing, and April breathes with hope. In May, the grey starts to wear away, bit by bit, bud by bud - and by June the sun will make a stunning appearance, joyous and triumphant in the glowing adoration of it's fans.
But for now, it's grey and dark.
Can we wait 'til June?
Do we have a choice?
2 comments:
What a perfect description of our winter, my friend - beautifully written...
Were I blind, I think even then I could see your winter from your description.
May summer come un-seasonally early for you, my dear friend.
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