Sunday, April 17, 2011

Spring Dusting

Snow in spring is something I'm learning to live with. Growing up in Colorado, spring seemed to take forever. I would wait, and wait, but not wait inside. My heart and gut would be bursting with the flowers I longed to see. Always ahead of the season, when spring finally came and it snowed, blooms would chill and branches would break under the weight of just-revived, living juices frozen brittle.

Living on the East Coast was to live in alignment with the season. Spring arrived suddenly, fully, and early. Once it was flourishing in the incredible abundance that is New York flora, not much happened to reverse the display. Brilliant colors and an overwhelming feeling of life -- pure, fresh, vibrant life -- would propel the summer into action and provide fodder for the autumn.

This year in Colorful Colorado, it has spring-snowed twice. Neither involved a deep freeze. Just a lovely little dusting. The first time (which thankfully preceded the flowering of trees), I ran out to Sterne Park at dawn with my iPhone to shutterbug and freeze my fingers while tapping the screen to change focus and depth of field, to adjust the aperture and shift into more dramatic light, to zoom into places where I could not walk. 

In my utter ecstasy I aggravated a thumb injury, insulted a casual conversationalist by not caring to pause to talk, and -- most sad of all -- had to endure the actual sunrise alone with the iPhone dead in my lap. Drawing an electronic curtain to my exuberance, it had turned off and refused to come back on. For no apparent reason other than it needed a little nap. But it had chosen to take this nap the moment the sun first graced the lakewater. I grieved to watch the dimness turn a definitive gold, to see the lake fowl celebrate the warmth on their feathers with much flapping and splashing. I grieved in that sweet way, when we know we are alone witnessing something exquisite and have no way to share it with another human being.

All in all -- despite the blend of ecstatic and pain-laden moments -- I came away with some pleasing shots. My father, the authority who formally studied the art in Paris and London, has complemented my compositions and says some are quite dreamlike. Perfect feedback. I was a little dreamy pre-dawn, chasing visions in the freezing cold. 

I walked home feeling at peace with this spring dusting. One more step to re-acclimating to this beloved home. 

Please, enjoy the gallery.


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