Lunar Eclipse of the Heart

The days are getting longer. I am reminded of that in little ways such as the late-afternoon sun streaking across my living room wall, as it creeps into view through the north-facing window. It's usually late February or early March before I notice how it brightens the room after the long, dull winter, just like I become aware of the tiny tufts of green grass which begin to appear in April.

It's been a nice winter for many reasons. The temperature hasn't plummeted to overly-uncomfortable levels too often, or for too long. The snow, although a fair bit of work to shovel, has been plentiful and refreshing during an otherwise dreary season. It also began late. Summer lingered well into October this past year, and autumn and winter followed in due course. For the first time since I was a child, winter has actually been pleasant. The main reason for this unexpected pleasure is my camera.

Most anywhere I look, there's a photograph. In my mind's eye, a bird at the feeder, the sun reflecting on the frozen lake, the moon-lit snow and fluffy flakes captured in mid-descent all appear to come into focus inside of their own frames. Icy paths have become less bothersome to navigate, and instead assist to reflect the light just right. Piles of snow create a temporary newness to the landscape. I'm no longer just seeing the mercury as a reliable measure of the day's potential. The season does not feel endless. It simply feels like a welcomed part of our passage to the next one - a period to which I have to admit I'm also looking forward.

I've spent so many years disliking winter and hiding from it, much like a creature in hibernation. In some manner, it feels as if I'm emerging from a darkness of sorts. This year, that shadow of concealment has slipped aside to expose a spectator with a rediscovered appreciation for the fullness of the season.

Much like last night's lunar eclipse, I feel that I am both a part of it and witness to it, and I can scarcely tear myself away from watching the transformation. I'm dazzled by its colours, its beauty and its charm. I feel lucky to have revisited this excitement for this time of year, which had been met with antipathy for so long. It's as if I have seen winter from a child's perspective once again.

I can hardly wait for the newness of Spring.

Below are some recent winter photos of nearby walking areas. Please scroll down to my previous entry (posted a few minutes ago) to see a few images of last night's total lunar eclipse. For clearer detail, please remember to click on the images to enlarge them.

Fluctuating temperatures cause frequent thaws and refreezes, creating this icy surface within a small cedar grove.



As the afternoon becomes evening, wispy shades of pink spread across the sky.



A pine tree stands tall, and watches as the sun paints the sky.



Across the lake, the sky is ablaze with colour.



The winter sky is magical at the point when the sun kisses the earth goodnight.



A golden moment in time.