lavender spirals

lavender spirals

fan outwards, casting captured

sunlight on the snow

The little pillar solar lights along the path to the house make delicate lavender spiral patterns on the snow, the spokes growing longer as they curve outwards. I do not know why the pattern forms a spiral -- some mysterious love of beauty. A whitetail deer has stepped near one of the lamps, breaking the perfect symmetry, creating an intriguing interplay between organic and inorganic forms. The small goblet-shaped light near the door got buried during the last snow storm. When I dig down through the snow, I am guided by the glow of the still weakly glimmering lamp. The liberated light eater radiates its rays around a little bowl carved into the snow by cold fingers.

road knee-deep in snow

road knee-deep in snow –

no car tracks, only one squirrel,

a few deer and me

 

The afternoon after the blizzard we are still snowed in. Brian’s truck transmission broke and Bill from Seven Hills won’t be able to get by to plow until evening. I plow my way to the mailbox, one and a half miles, through snow just below my knees. Hard work in the cold wind, but beautiful – no car tracks, hardly any animal tracks, just a pristine expanse of snow and curvaceous drifts. Every tree nestles in a little hollow well surrounded by a white bowl.