Tuesday, February 8, 2011

"Midnight's all a glimmer..."

... and "peace comes dropping slow." Last night's snow made me think of those two lines from W B Yeats' poem, 'The Lake Isle of Innisfree.'

I took these first two photos from the sitting room window at about midnight last night. Can someone tell me what it is that makes a mid-night snow give off such a bright light, when there is no moon to speak of, and the closest street light is about a block away? It is like the snow itself is giving off the light. It makes for a lovely sepia-toned landscape (NOT altered by PhotoShop, by the way.)

This morning, the world was black and white again. Booker and I went for a snowy walk, ending up at a friend's house for hot tea in front of her fire. It was hard to come back and get to work.
The tree above is one of the trees I feel like I have a 'relationship' with. It is at the city park that is a block from our house. It is majestic and stately in all seasons, and was particularly beautiful with it's heavy winter blanket of snow today.

I am creeping up on the end of this tapestry. It is at a stage now where I am thinking it can not possibly be 'successful.' But every tapestry I do goes through this stage, so I am just continuing to work my way through it. I hope to complete it soon! A few more snow days should do it, I think...


Jan said...

Thanks for sharing your August tapestry, so different from January! They totally convey the feeling of the seasons.

I love that tree, I wonder how old it is?

Mary said...

Your photos look beautiful but I have no desire to live in such a climate. I remember going to France one winter (it is the time a lot of us travel to the northern hemisphere as it is our summer holidays) and being surprised how much it looked like a black and white photo.
Your tapestry also looks fine, keep going. I especially love the reflections in the water.

Theresa said...

Snow is amazing stuff isn't it. Beautiful pictures. I think snow rivals fall in it's beauty myself. Love it. The tapestry looks wonderful even if you feel you are at that awkward stage.
I haven't thought of that great poem for years, thank you for bringing it back to me!
Stay warm.

K Spoering said...

Jan, your question about the age of the tree made me curious. Our house is 90 years old this year. I found a photo in a local history book of the park in 1922. (It was a fairground and a zoo with a new community swimming pool, then.) The photo of the new pool that was opening was surrounded by trees that looked mature, but not old. I am betting this tree and one or two more were among them. So it is probably at least 100 years old. It may be older. The trees around our house are from when the house was built, and they are not as large as the park tree is.