Winter: Canvas of Gray
After the riot of summer flowers and fall leaves, winter often stretches colorless through the doldrums of January and February. Fresh snow sparkling in sunshine might brighten the neighborhood occasionally, at least until the plows come through. But a more typical Rhode Island winter day dawns gray and seems to fade away the same way, only a few hours later.
Yesterday I was reminded that this gray is just a canvas, a backdrop for the beauty all around us. This time of year we learn to make the most of any warm days, so when the temperature climbed to a balmy 55, I dragged myself away from my desk and outside at midday. Walking by the harbor, I realized the complete lack of wind had turned it into an unexpected mirror. The water I knew so well now shimmered in pink, blue, even gold, reflecting thin clouds I hadn’t even noticed overhead. Seen from above, it was a real-life watercolor. I slowed my steps, watching as long as I could; New England winter colors don’t stick around long.
Winter water reflects any hint of color in this rusty fishing skiff. Photo courtesy PaulCroninStudios.com
Except in sunsets. A few hours after my walk, long, streaks of gold clouds ripened to red, then pulsed purple, and finally darkened into dusk. I could have spent an hour watching the colors change; instead I glanced west every five or ten minutes, wondering how change could be so unseen and yet so obvious once it happened.
Kind of like the seasons themselves.
For even as we settle into the depth of winter, dreading the next deep freeze and blessing our beefy furnaces, the light is changing. Damp gray dark mornings happen sooner than a month ago. And those rich lengthy sunsets stretch colorful fingers into the sky well beyond quitting time. The earth is not sleeping but turning slowly on its axis toward spring, giving us the winter-precious chance to sleep late, to maybe waste a few hours on an inside project that will go nowhere, to read for hours on the windowseat, to savour the gift of time. A season for learning to see subtle variations in our surroundings, the quiet changes we we miss in the milder months when we’re distracted by a sudden flash of in-your-face green or yellow or red.
It’s a beautiful gray, if you know where to look.
Photo copyright ©Paul Cronin Studios, from The World Around Us photo gallery
