The romance of winter -
And the deep snow -
Never fail to surprise and please
When wrapped up in
A sky of pink tissue
And a bow of dreamy fog.
For more dreamy shots, please visit: Skywatch.
The pink glow of the early setting winter sun
Enticed us outside to explore
The wonders just beyond the horizon.
It was a miracle of trees that
Seemed to float in the rising mist –
A wonder of purple and gold
Painting the fog with magic.
For more miracles, please visit: Skywatch.
With no warning, the temperatures fell
And the fog with it.
Wonderful golden fog,
Each particle of the air alive
And singing with colour and life.
For more magic, please visit: Skywatch.
At dawn, the old stone church across the lake bathes in golden light –
Amazing to think that 800 years ago, someone looked at a pile of rocks
And saw how they could be transformed into something so much greater than the sum of their parts.
And as the sun sets,
Don’t ask what the meaning of the birdsong or the setting sun is,
Just enjoy the beauty and let them be.
For more loveliness, please visit: Skywatch.
I love autumn and the autumn skies,
Especially the fireworks autumn puts on in the early mornings.
I’m invigorated by the sky’s soft blush,
The flamboyant colours of the leaves,
The dramatic harmony of sky and trees and water.
George Eliot put it so well when she wrote,
“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”
For more deliciousness, please visit: Skywatch.
It’s early. Very early.
The fog hangs in soft veils as I sneak outside, camera in hand.
Suddenly, a screech rips the sky in two to reveal
A single heron soaring in the blue dawn.
He is joined by two more – a feast for tired eyes.
They whirl, they dance, they leave me breathless
Until they fade into the happily ever after
Of a new day.
For more miracles, please visit: Our World.
Imagine, if you will, the stillness of
The very early morning – the world
Wrapped tightly in sleep and fog.
Suddenly, the mist is pierced
By magical fingers of light.
An illumination of world and soul -
Where the light does not reveal anything,
But is itself the revelation.
For more heavenly revelations, please visit: Skywatch.
The snow and ice have melted away. The sun is shining
And magical light is flooding our senses.
But – before it’s too late – I want to show you the gold of winter;
The gold that goes unnoticed in autumn’s burnished blaze
And spring’s happy song.
Now, with the sun warming my face,
It’s easy to look back and enjoy the perfection of winter gold.
“I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.” – Rimbaud
For more golden skies, please visit: Skywatch!
Springter is that time of year when spring and winter compete to see who is going to rule the weather.
One day the sun is shining and spring is shaking loose with a rainbow of melting snow.
The next day, winter is back with a vengeance – fresh snow and ice make art out last autumn’s leaves
Still clinging to the trees in a display of perseverance.
A bud tries to unfurl but is caught there between seed and flower
Between spring and winter
Between hope and promise.
To get away from my icy pictures, please visit: My World!
(Don’t know about you – but I think this pretty much describes middle age too.)
A glorious November day with the sun shining just so,
Shedding golden pools of light on trees
As birds took off – into a purple veil of fog.
Poetry in motion.
I leave no trace of wings in the air, but I am glad I have had my flight.
- Rabindranath Tagore
For more amazing skies, please visit: Skywatch!
The last day of 2010 dawned bright and glorious.
Sneaking a peek through a white wooden fence, I catch a sight of golden trees framed in the lilac shadows of the fence.
Rounding the corner, I gasp in admiration as the snow unfurls like a purple rug
And flaming trees float golden under a peaceful sky.
Remember to click the photos to enlarge them!
For more glory, please visit: Skywatch.
The sky and snow are blue with cold
Until the sun rises
Tinging the soft underbellies of the popcorn clouds
With pink sugar.
The kids pile into overalls and boots
And gloves and hats and scarves
And kids and dog and I spill out
Into the gorgeous new day
To greet the thick fog rising like a veil
Above the welcoming iced over lake.
It’s cold. Very cold.
“I’ve got fog in my gloves!” my youngest shouts.
“Let’s go home.”
And enjoy the sensation and memory of that fog.
Fog in our gloves.
For more cool skies, go to: Skywatch!
Sunday morning. A wet mist hangs like damp washing over the countryside. It’s cold. It’s wet. It’s unpleasant. And no – the photos aren’t out of focus. The weather is.
As that old cliché goes: it’s good weather for ducks. Their orange feet are the only flashes of colour to cheer up the day.
What a shame that you aren’t here to share it!
Anyway, if you want to escape our candy floss mist, then head on over to the third riveting edition of Strange Shores: a blog carnival written by ex-pats. It’ll leave you shaken, and quite possible, stirred.