Winter Solstice
A season of pregnant stillness.
Winter solstice approaches and the nights now outlast the days, while the gray clouds hug the hillsides as they dust decaying leaves with powdery ice crystals. The Earth is soggy, saturated and fecund, full of water and biomass. The air smells sweet and still carries a hint of summer’s humid touch. What does it mean to be alive in the winter? I walk Simon through quiet city streets, marveling at his talent for finding things to smell in this frozen landscape. There’s something subtle happening with death so close at hand. All of our holidays and rituals seem to be ways of saying: So be it.
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- Jonah · December 21‹ Just a GambolProject Happy Days ›