1nature photosT. S. Eliot tells us in “The Wasteland” that April is the cruelest month, but for many in the Pacific Northwest the cruelest are the bleak days of January and February when rain has rusted the fence, when clouds hang too low, and when time seems to pass in slow motion. What has fascinated me this winter season is how nature’s spaces—large and small—open best in hibernation. I have looked at the world from the vantage point of a withered twig and the ground, the tree pocket and evergreen beyond it, geometric shapes that form when stalks are stripped bare.  John Keats’ words of stars “cold about the sky” may not relate to my clouded Oregon universe, but he describes what we can see when foliage does not obstruct the view.

2berryThe other morning I tried to capture a bit of nature’s empty rooms. The hued space between the leaves and berries caught my eye. What rooms arise in the places between red orbs and angled twigs? I cannot explain that mystery, but I did see the air blush and (maybe) shame the nearby brick.

3tree with skyAnd, oh, so much sky to see through bare branches. If the ground were not a soggy mess, I would lie on my back and contemplate nature’s etchings. Maybe not “bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air,” but at the top of the photo a woman’s profile, complete with pointed nose, double chin, and hair in a bun. Just to the left of center, the bird would be safely hidden, but his black head and beak give him away, and that figure in the lower right-hand-corner? The man in flowing cape and gaucho hat could be Zorro without his mask.

Winter is not a time to mourn, but a time to rest and dream, to let sleep come early and stay late, to discover the soul’s inner regions that let me play “Where’s Waldo” with bare branches. If I choose, I have dormant days of imagination swinging me past rusted diamond enclosures, and up, up, through those burdened clouds—all the way to the wide open sky.

2 thoughts on “Regions

  1. Toni – I love this! Sorry to be so slow to respond. You write so eloquently of something that I’ve been enjoying here at St. Stephens for the past 3 winters: as much as I hate to see all of the leaves fall away in the fall, I have become enamored with the bare branches – the shapes of the branches and the spaces opened up when the leaves are gone. I can see so many big old trees out my windows, going down to the river….you may remember the view…..and, I can sit or stand and stare for long minutes, just enjoying the shapes and “emptiness” of those big old trees.

    Liked by 1 person

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