the blue hour

I just took this picture about 5:45 P.M out the back window. This is what I have been seeing at dawn and dusk. In French it's called L'heure bleu, the blue hour. On Saturday morning, the winter vista looked just like this. As more light appeared, the sky turned gray, and the snow became white. So what color is the snow, the sky? Is it really possible to say that it's anything more than a momentary combination of light, angle, background, reflection and shade? I'm only certain of its beauty.

embers

Better than a sharp stick in the eye
on flickr

15 degres and cloudy. Getting up in the middle of the night to stoke the stove, orange embers in the bottom. Raking the snow off the roof. Truck pulling a trailer and snowmobile in Proctor. And yet...it's light now when leaving work at 5:00.

wheel wells

klynslis on flickr

15 degrees and cloudy. Temps above freezing yesterday for the first time in awhile. During the cold snap, the ice under the wheel wells was frozen solid. Yesterday there were hundreds of chunks of ice along roadsides all over Vermont as this same ice thawed enough to fall away one way or another. Loud crash of icicles off the building at work. Sign up for Girl Scout cookies at work. About a week ago I saw a caterpillar slowly ambling across the walkway at work. Wha?

day in the life

bluenuns98 on flickr

24 degrees & cloudy. Went out to start the Honda this morning after two days of noncompliance. It's amazing how warm 24 feels after 21 below zero. Season of antifreeze, windshield washer fluid, and dry gas. Snow building up on banks, and in the lane as the town snow plow was broken. In the summer, the humidity makes my hair curly and wild. In the winter, my bad hair days are caused by the perpetual use of my wool cap, even at night. Happy Birthday Shawn!

chickadees

Blueberry Lake Resort
on flickr

Vibrant cries of the chickadees about the only sign of life these days. Hauling out the space heater at home. Gloves, hats, neck warmers, boots, jackets growing like mushrooms in the kitchen. Leaving work shoes at work, and wearing boots to and from. Cacky's snow shoe tracks heading up the hill in the back.

21 below

grahamramsden52 on flickr

21 below zero. Maybe it's my imagination, but it's almost like you can see the cold.

The Snow Man
by Wallace Stevens

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun, and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

troika

rich66 on flickr

There have been a couple of significant snow events here recently. Mounds of snow in the Hannaford's parking lot. They must be at least 20 feet high. Kids throwing snowballs on Curtis Ave. At times the road from West Rutland to Ira has been totally covered with snow. On the way home, sometimes I feel like I'm driving a Russian troika through the woods somewhere between Moscow and St. Petersburg; wolves nipping at my heels. Active fantasy life.

season of ice

moonjazz on flickr

Cloudy. Season of ice. Sound of snow melt dripping off the roof at work. It refreezes on the walkway making for some treacherous travel, and some chipping away of the ice by appropriate personnel. Icicles prominent at home & work. Season of salt as well; on walkways, rugs and cars all over Vermont. Full moon, the "wolf" moon last night.

oak

thezygo from flickr

We just have a few logs left from the giant oak tree I cut & split over a year ago. What does it mean when you have an intimate and longstanding relationship with the fuel you are using to keep yourself warm on these cold January days?

October 16, 2009
Cloudy. Last Sunday I borrowed the neighbor's wood splitter to take care of the huge oak which fell over a year ago. It was all cut up, and ready to split. It rained all Friday night. Even with my four wheel drive truck, it was too slippery to get the splitter to the wood pile. I could either give up or roll the logs (easily 100 lbs. each) down to the splitter. Roll them I did. It was muddy, and with every log I rolled, the path got muddier. When I got to about the 15th log, it literally became a mud wrestling event. Got about 20 of the largest pieces down there and split. I then split some wood down by the house until about 6:00 P.M. Afterward, I was covered with mud. When I got back, Allyn took a look at me and said I shouldn't even bother washing my clothes. I should just throw them away. I think it's the hardest I've ever worked in my life. The only times I was ever that tired were after hikes with John; the hike up to the top of Mt. Equinox in the snow, and the 10 mile death march up Shrewsbury Peak a couple of years ago.

moon flakes

It has been very cold here. It was eight below zero the other night. It seems that because it has been so cold, the shape of the snowflakes that have fallen over the last few days have been preserved. Sunlight reflecting off the snow makes it look like a field of diamonds. The other night, Allyn noticed the moon's glistening reflection in the snow outside our bedroom window. Even when it's bitterly cold, the world can be an astonishingly beautiful place.

Sunday drive

Driving to the Zen Center on Sunday morning. Woods Pond in Brandon is covered with snow. So are the sunflowers in the field alongside. Snow drifts on Route 7 in the usual places. Snowmobiles running along the road north of Middlebury. Alpenglow on the Adirondacks way to the west.
Driving back from the Center, heading due south in the middle of the day. Bright winter sun through the windows provides almost a narcotic effect.

snowflakes

Cloudy. Very light snowfall. Individual flakes spinning slowly out of the sky.

January 16, 2008
Yesterday when I was walking over to production, I was watching the snowflakes. I saw something I had never noticed before. The individual flakes that had not clumped with others were spinning like a propeller as they floated down. I didn't know that some snowflakes spin. I pointed it out to Debby from scheduling as she walked by. We both started pointing at the spinning snowflakes. We must have looked like a couple of "flakes" ourselves.

Under the microscope, I found that snowflakes were miracles of beauty; and it seemed a shame that this beauty should not be seen and appreciated by others. Every crystal was a masterpiece of design, and no design was ever repeated. When a snowflake melted, that design was lost forever. Just that much beauty was gone, without leaving any record behind.

Wilson "Snowflake" Bentley
Jericho, Vermont 1925

hoarfrost

Cloudy. About a foot of snow yesterday. It's piled up on the picnic table at work which is my snow barometer this time of year. A path was shoveled to the bird feeder over by production yesterday. Some winter observations from before the storm, smoke from chimneys on the way into Rutland, sun glinting off the hoarfrost on the crabapple tree next to my office.

snow day

Snow! Allyn has a snow day today. As she said this morning, it's my birthday, and she got the present. I've always considered the time between my birthday and hers as the dead of winter. Here goes. Insincere birthday wishes to Rush Limbaugh & Howard Stern.

turquoise

Sunny. Walking out the lane this morning, noticed a turquoise snow reflecting a turquoise morning sky. Noticed turquoise in the western sky later in the day. I have never associated turquoise with anything in Vermont before, no matter what the season, but there it is.

muffler

Cloudy. Vermont has put on its brown and white muffler. Snow muffles most of the sound. The countryside seems almost devoid of color-except for the bright red cardinal in the birch tree.

waxing crescent moon

Sunny & 20 degrees. Putting out the markers to guide the town plow along the lane. Large chunks of ice around the building at work. Waxing crescent moon winking mysteriously as it sets in the southwest.

exotic

Sunny & 22 degrees. Dumping the ash from the wood stove this morning. Stars twinkling in the sky overhead. Snow twinkling from the reflection of the outside light. This picture doesn't have anything to do with Vermont in January. It was taken in the jungles of eastern Ecuador, and is the most beautiful flower I ever saw. It was growing out of the trunk of a tree. Very exotic country.

nineteenth century

Cloudy. Animal tracks around the bird feeder at work. Squirrels looking for dried fruit in the crabapple tree. Allyn & I bringing wood into the house from the wood pile in the back. Sometimes I feel like I live in the 19th century, not the 21st.

new year

Back from South America. Flowers, birds, volcanos, waterfalls; clouds as mother of pearl. Spent a lot of time suspended in mid air on zip lines, bridges, and trams; life in the Andes I guess. Christmas tree in the back of a truck; heading to recycling? Opening up the 2011 Zen page a day calendar.

If you cannot find the truth right where you are, where else do you expect to find it?
Dogen