The Winter and the Sunset

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“The sunsets are very early in the afternoon, if you are lucky enough to catch one at all” Gun Roswell

The Winter and the Sunset

It seemed only a few hours ago, that the sun had started rising, in the low horizon, and then it was already almost gone. But luckily I was able the catch the last rays glowing in reds as the setting of the sun was a few hours only after the lunch break in the afternoon, thinking that’s was way too soon as I had hardly caught a glimpse of it all day, making the mood much like dismay, even if the lighter colours on the outside because of the snow were all still shining bright. But the sun is something to be adored no matter how many times it feels like a chore and talking about it sometimes like a bore, the same old story of the setting sun, the images captured pretty much all done. But I say it is not, and keep on the lookout for the bright globe of fire, whenever it emerges from its slumber, lighting up our dull grey days, and keep on snapping those pictures high and low, whenever the rise or set is on the flow, and a few words here and there in honour of the star so mighty, as without it there really is no surviving.

Winter art

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“There is a lot of spontaneous art happening during the winter time, with the freezing and melting and ice and snow“ Gun Roswell

Winter art

The warmer temperatures came and went and the freezing process started again, raising havoc on the side walks of all things, people falling down and breaking their legs, arms and hips. But if there is one great thing about this back and forth of the weather in the winter time, is at least the quick freezing of the nature kind. As if by surprise, the sprouts were coming alive one moment due to the sun shine, and then, over night, with the plummeting temperatures, they were flash frozen in time to be persevered for at least, until the next time the gods controlling the climate would change their minds and bring on warmer breezes and doing the unfreezing of the gorgeous pieces of art work as provided by nature’s creatures. But until the warm front hits the lands once again, let’s just go out there and admire the splendours and free art, much of it quite smart, perhaps snap a few photos in the process and write some fancy poetry or whatever words on the paper, for the rest of the world to admire at least in bits and bytes.

Winter’s blue moment sunset

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“The blue moment of the day, is here to slay, the sun, as there is nothing it can do against the darkening night.” Gun Roswell

Winter’s blue moment sunset

The colour, is simply so totally blue, the hue so strong, the lens of the camera could not even fathom how to adjust the tone

But it does not matter as the calming waves, hitting those, whom dare in the moment for a tad longer to stay.

The world under a calming cool blanket, not of white, or off white, but blue, the hue simply so good, matching those of the skies.

And before it is time to retire, lay the head on a pillow and smile, the moment of blue still lingering the minds of those, whom did it applaud.

Winter’s Branches

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“They are frozen, solid, preserved and intact, until spring.” Gun Roswell

Winter’s Branches

Just yesterday, the leaves were hanging there, living, breathing, drinking in the water from the rain having fallen from the open skies, waving gently in the winds, as if nothing would disturb them.

Then, overnight, the temperatures plummeted, and without so much as a warning, the leaves of the threes, froze, mid life, without a strife, simply hanging there in suspended animation, in whatever position they had been, when the extreme wheaten stormed in.

Pretty, they are, even from a far, the hanging jewels of sorts of the tree, covered by snow and ice, looking quite nice, but inside there, is life waiting to pounce forward at the first sign of spring.

Wintery branches

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“The nature has painted the branches of the trees with a white crystal like substance, something these mere mortals call as “snow”” Gun Roswell

Wintery branches

The early morning snow showers, had painted patterns all over the place, frozen for a short moment in the cold weather, the icicles of the flowery flakes glistening in the morning sun, looking like much fun, at least, when staring from the window, from the warmth of the inside. But those who dare outside, in the world now rather cold and crispy, perhaps taken some sort of recording device with them, whether a mechanical one, or a simple pen and paper setup, they might just be able to capture the most gorgeous scene, right out of a fantasy book, as the look, is pretty much out there, from the mind of the creator, Mother Nature, rewarding us with this sight. And after the day is done, those patterns would have turned, to something else as more snow and ice would have burned on top of the original ones. So, perhaps todays display, will be even the more tomorrow, who knows? The point being, keep an interest in the surroundings as you can never know what interesting things you might just be finding out there.

Snowflakes

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“Snowflakes are falling down” Gun Roswell

Snowflakes

Tiny little things
Fragile, but they sing
A harmonious song
All of them singing along
As they venture way down
On to the solid ground
There is a soft thud
But nothing heard aloud
Piling on top of each other
Forming a blanket tether
Strong enough to walk on
Completing this monotonous song
Until such time the snowfall
Starts another round
And the circle continues
Until it’s time to loose
To the warmth of sunshine

Working hard? Hardly!

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“The winter season gives you extra special tasks to do, like shovelling the snow almost every single day. Fun, am I right? Not! she replied, quickly enough” Gun Roswell 

Working hard? Hardly!

The shovel at the door, simply waiting for me to finish the chore, the thing happening in winter,, the one with the snow, which after a while becomes quite the bore as it seems a never ending lore, the falling of snow flakes onto each and every surface, which seemed like a welcome change, for a day or so. But, as the same old continued all day long, all days long as it were, the beauty of it all soon faded and the eternal struggle with the snow shovel, soon turned to some kind of hatred, for the white powdery stuff, the winter seemingly too long and rough, especially with constant grinding of minus degrees of frozen solid, to rain and sleet and all that shit. So, in the end or not nearly the end of this season, it all had become enough, as the piles growing ever higher had no space to be, as you see, small yards make easy maintenance, but not during the winter’s mighty entrance, almost as an eternal pest that one is and makes one wish for a warmer climate to stay in. And so, with that in mind one snowy day, the shovel was left where it was left to lay. And the snow? Well, it would be spring time eventually, right? But hey! It’s already summer!

The Winter’s Moon

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“The moon comes out, no matter the time of the year, it does not care, just because it can, it will, appear.” Gun Roswell

The Winter’s Moon

The moon shining in the early evening hours, having come out, from behind the curtains, not really having been hiding, just, hanging up there, waiting for the right moment, to make its appearance, now that sun doesn’t dominate the skies, as it is, winter time and so, taking its special place, for the length of the nigh, being at its fullest, which is always nice.

And so all of us moon worshipers gathering out there, in the cold night air, simply to be able to pay homage and howl at the round moon.

The Snow and the Bike

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“There is nothing to riding a bike, in winter, on the snow, on ice… slippery slides ahead!“ Gun Roswell

The Snow and the Bike

The snowy ride on a bike, can be a strife, unless you have prepped properly, for the weathers ahead, the snow, the ice, the sleet, the frozen degrees, well, guess winter tires are just what you seek?

Then the ride smooth will be, unless, the road ahead, is frozen over several times and the tracks are filled with all kinds of rocky slime and grime? 

Well, whatever the weather might just throw the bikers way, rest assured they will simply not care as biking is most certainly in their blood and well, peddling up and down?

The Road Clear Ahead

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“The road quite clear, now that the plow towards it had steered, vacuuming away all that snow” Gun Roswell

The Road Clear Ahead

The main road, leaving towards towns and even destination unknown, was filled with snow, suddenly having poured, over night

What a total fright!

But hey, it’s all alright, now that the plow has arrived

Working hard, no one single part, not even the very sides

The offensive snow, soon hauled away, even if it is just for a while there

As soon enough, a new front will arise and more snow will be on the way

But for now all ahead is perfectly clear

From very far away and even near

The road ahead, simply waiting for the travellers to get on instead of waiting 

Perhaps even hesitating, whether to hit that path towards vistas familiar and unknown

And so now, it will be easy enough

As nothing really too rough awaits 

No need to carry a shovel, unless, to some non-plowed road you want to travel