Today is gray, damp, and cold, with snow showers in the morning just to remind us that winter never leaves without a fight. This morning when I walked Reggie, there was a sludgy mixture of snowflakes, snow-melt, and frozen melt-water clinging to leaves and buds, so I took a smattering of soggy shots, trying to capture the entire range of spring precipitation.
After all these years of blogging, I find my writing and photography are becoming increasingly connected. On days when I walk and see little worth photographing, I have a difficult time filling my morning journal pages. On mornings when I’ve seen things I find interesting, I have more to write about when I get home. It’s not so much that I write about what I photograph; it’s more a matter of my writer’s eye being opened by the things I’ve seen. The stimulus of seeing gives impetus to my writing.
It pleases me, aesthetically, to see winter snow melting into spring rain; it pleases me, too, to know that budding daffodils will outlast this morning’s snow shower. In late March, we have no other choice but to live in the present moment, yesterday’s (and even this morning’s) weather slipping like quicksilver through our grasp.