Another Winter | The Walrus

"Winter is here once more. (What were we expecting?) Winter has crept up on us. The leaves came down on schedule when we weren't watching (weren't watching the leaves, that is)- we were watching the news instead of the leaves, and one day we woke to bare trees and frozen puddles, wondering how we missed the colours. As for summer-was there a summer? Why don't we remember?"

"Look outside: it's a day without brine, sky bland as the white of a hard-boiled egg, no flakes in the air today, no frost ferns on the window, gaiety in abeyance only another winter day, only the cold, and the early dark, and a growing desire to mend fences maybe a wish or two, quiet ones: to get a few things done while we still can, a few things, slowly, one by one, and to see, and to see, and to see"

Winter returns, arriving quietly and unexpectedly. Leaves fell on schedule while attention remained elsewhere, and bare trees and frozen puddles appeared before the colors were noticed. Summer seems vague or forgotten. The sky is bland and frost and snow are absent, leaving a muted, subdued atmosphere and gaiety temporarily suspended. Days shorten, cold intensifies, and a growing desire emerges to repair relationships and accomplish unfinished tasks. Modest wishes surface to complete a few things slowly, deliberately, one by one. An insistent longing develops to perceive more clearly, to see repeatedly and more fully.

Read at The Walrus