There was a small taste of spring here before winter came back to to say its goodbyes. The cold and strong winds of a few days ago have fashioned some icy sculptures along the river’s edge and on this quiet morning a thin layer of fresh ice was singing and straining under the stirring of a waking river. Later today we are promised snow and the landscape will transform temporarily yet again. As much as I find these transformations fascinating and lovely to photograph, I think I am quite ready for real spring.
I love the fluidity of these liminal spaces between winter and spring. The ice folding back from the shoreline exposing inky cold water, translucence and grit. There is much beauty in the rituals of the seasons.
February holds a little bit of everything, even in its infancy. Snow (not enough), rain, freezing rain, warm temperatures, freezing cold temperatures. It is a month that throws itself to the wind and just goes with it.
All this ‘weathering’ has created a lovely kaleidoscope of shapes on this expansive part of river, the colours shifting with the light and clouds as they streak across the sky.
They have only just begun, really. It was a few days ago that the snow finally decided to swing by and tuck in the plants and trees with a thick white blanket. I confess that I love it. What is more peaceful than a shrouded winter night? The snowflakes, relinquished from clouds, slipping by in whispers. Fresh snow for a fresh year.