“Midwinter spring is its own season
Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown,
Suspended in time, between pole and tropic.
When the short day is brightest, with frost and fire,
The brief sun flames the ice, on pond and ditches,
In windless cold that is the heart’s heat,
Reflecting in a watery mirror
A glare that is blindness in the early afternoon.
And glow more intense than blaze of branch, or brazier,
Stirs the dumb spirit: no wind, but pentecostal fire
In the dark time of the year. Between melting and freezing
The soul’s sap quivers. There is no earth smell
Or smell of living thing. This is the spring time
But not in time’s covenant. Now the hedgerow
Is blanched for an hour with transitory blossom
Of snow, a bloom more sudden
Than that of summer, neither budding nor fading,
Not in the scheme of generation.
Where is the summer, the unimaginable
poem: extract from Little Gidding by T. S. Eliot.
Photo by clinock
Today the first real snow fell in Vancouver… all is white and silent and everyday forms lose definition…no doubt tomorrow it will all be slush and rain again, that’s how it goes here on the north west coast. Tomorrow the sun will begin its slow return and I welcome the reality and symbolism of the Solstice. I am a child of the sun and despite growing up in the dank ambiance of England I am at heart a southern soul. I need light and heat and the life and colour it brings.
“May the long time sun shine upon you…all love surround you…”