Winter Light

I love the light of winter.  It’s very like, or at least somewhat like, (I can’t get so carried away as to beggar belief), New Mexico light, which I always say is what makes me like West Texas so much, too.  It’s the light, and the skies.  So here, in the winter months, when the sun is low in the sky and the shadows longer, (like in the Golden Hour of Light in photography), there almost seem to be more hours of magic light even in the shorter days.  Usually we are graced with some days of lower humidity and clear skies, and that’s a good winter in Texas.  Just about now, however, as we enter another drought, I’d settle for some mass humidity and some rain, before we dry up and blow away again, and my beloved lake disappears as it did just two short years ago.  In fact, we’re getting just that, as fog has rolled in, and it’s damp and chilly and almost serious about making raindrops.

I’ve missed the joys of the outdoors, until that wonderful day on Sunday, since I’ve been in full bore show mode for months now, and my most productive days are spent inside – at the computer or printer or over a hot mat cutter.  (That would be me, of course.)  I am not at all looking for any sort of sympathy, for there is joy in the creativity and bringing the images to life – not to mention those hard days at the office I spent rafting the Colorado while obtaining some new material and having me one fine adventure in the process.  Have I said enough how much I love my work?

Now come a different flavor of glory days, as I give myself permission to recover from weeks of intense preparation and the opposite of the wilderness or nature moments that I so love and which feed my soul – with the glaring, noisy, people-filled madness of show season, most especially the Dillo, at which I am “ON” for twelve nerve tingling hours of the day – wearing my big hat and Meetin’ the Folks.  Don’t get me wrong – there is love in and for that, too, for this is where I see the connections being made – seeing my art TOUCH people – and they reward me for my passion by actually buying my work.  Not only is my soul fed, but also my bank account.  Wonderful system, if it all goes right and the economy isn’t scaring people to death.  I think they got tired of being scared this year – they bought – God or Spirit or whatever love ‘em.  Haven’t I recently mentioned being GRATEFUL?  You have no idea.

I welcome these sweet and slower paced times.  I don’t have to be anywhere except mostly by choice.  I’m not desperate for money to pay bills.  Time is planned for fun with friends.  And I get to be home a lot, quiet time if I so choose, and do what I want and what needs to be done.  I’m already puttering, beginning to put things back where they belong.  Hopefully the things that have eluded me in the past weeks will surface, and order will once again be restored.  I can’t wait to be OUTSIDE, and to start trimming trees and getting to those weeds, and then thinking about the garden in the spring.  I’m eager to get my camera out and get those shots of the Cardinals in the trees that beg to be taken.  And the rest of the gang, too.  Projects abound, and the list is ridiculously long, but I aim to finish up those painting projects and likely start a few more.  Then there are floors and cabinets if I get totally inspired.

In a few months there will be photographic adventures to be had, as Cover Girl (my much more professional photographer friend – has her Bona Fides) and I are planning a springish splurge to tackle the badlands in New Mexico.  I can’t wait to see the moonscape rocks and spend more time with one of my favorite road trip buddies.  Now I’ve put it in print, so ALL may know that I am SERIOUS about this.  I expect nothing but wonder from this adventure, and some good times and lots of laughs.  Maybe a few challenges.  And then some righteous images.  One or both of us may have to start supplying some new juice to New Mexico Highways magazine.  She should let it be me – she’s already got Arizona!

Late spring/early summer will find me back in the Hill Country in Kerrville for an art show, ditto New Mexico in the middle of summer, where I plan NOT to break any more elbows.  Fall, who knows, but I’d sure like to do that houseboat thing on Lake Powell.  And then before I know it, it’ll be winter again and I’ll be back in Dillo madness.  It passes that quickly now, really.  Let me tell you how quickly it passes – I get Social Security next year!  I tell you, if I’m going to attain some absolutely unbelievably ridiculous age, they can dang well pay me for it.  In my heart, I know I am 37.  Or maybe even 17.  Mother always told me you feel the same inside, and lo and behold, it is true.  It is the body that is the liar, or maybe the traitor.

I picked up my guitar for the first time in long weeks, and it felt so good to hear the music and make the songs again.  There’s more intention – I’m going to get better at this.  I have more to say than can be offered in a photograph – sometimes you just need the words, and the melody can help you deliver them.  (And sometimes there are just bad country songs, but you have to take the bad with the good.)

So when I get those shots of the beautiful sunlit Cardinals exploding in red in the green trees, I’ll send them along.  They are an eyeful.  Who knows what else will show up.  I’m on a roll, and excited about what’s around the bend – not apprehensive and sick to death of bemoaning what happened to me in the past.  Bury it.  Remember the lessons, but the long gone body of the departed doesn’t wear well on the hearth or mantle.  Throw it in the fire, and be a supporter of cremation for your own sake.  (As usual, this is me talking to me, but it wouldn’t hurt to listen probably – especially if you share any of my very common human maladies.)

I am loving the silence, or sounds of Nature after the non-stop NOISE of the season, even if at times I liked that particular noise.  My ears are tired.  My senses need rest and restoration.  This is the time.  Ahh-h-h-h-h-h-h.  Peace.  Finally, some peace.  And Silence.  It feels good.

And though I haven’t captured those Cardinals yet, here are a couple of the regulars.  We are a haven for the creatures out here, and I intend it to be a haven for my own self, ready to settle down into winter.  Time to start thinking about that first fire of the season.

Keep warm, y’all.


2 Responses to “Winter Light”

  1. The light of winter is a good thing . . . and time to slow down a bit and see what is out there . . . embrace the new year and all it has in store for us. Happy New Year!

  2. My spouse and I stumbled over here coming from a different web address and
    thought I may as well check things out. I like what I see so i am just following you.
    Look forward to exploring your web page yet again.

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