The Other Side of Winter

St- Emelie-de-l'Énergie, Quebec. Pastel on paper, 13" x 9 3/4".

For those of us who live this far north, you simply have to find something to like about winter - something that makes you actually look forward to it, and that gives you the endurance to get through the last two months of it. I was born in snow country, and have spent my entire life absorbed in the rhythm of seasonal change, attuned to the micro-signals of weather and temperature. We all do that to some degree, don't we? A person from St. Lucia probably knows the moods of the sea the same way I know the different sounds of snow under my feet, or what the cold air tells me as it enters my nostrils.

But what I love most about winter, in addition to the exhilarating feeling of being outdoors on a very cold but bright day -- a feeling nothing in summer can match -- is the way it looks.

The beauty of snow, its purity, its varying texture, the way it reflects light, the way it changes a familiar landscape, the quality of shadows cast on it or light passing through it, the different sizes and tempos and patterns it takes as it falls through the air or is blown about by the wind: all these are by now deeply ingrained, and loved, in spite of any complaints I may make from time to time during a long cold winter. It would be unthinkable for me to miss an entire winter, to fly south like so many Canadian snowbirds who escape to Florida or Costa Rica when the first flurries arrive, and never return until there's green grass and daffodils.

By now, heading toward late February, I'm getting tired of it, for sure. And we too are planning a brief escape soon to someplace much warmer. A lot of the ice has melted and the snow in the city has receded; walking is pretty easy right now, and though we'll get some big wet snowfalls in March, the accumulation seems to have peaked and started to turn in the other direction. I hear there's a huge amount in Quebec City still, as there was out in the country, inspiring the picture at the top of this post. As I worked on that pastel, I thought about the blue of the shadows, how intense it is, and how deep it seems to go into the snow itself.

It's such a strange substance, snow. In the city, where it accumulates in volume, it creates an enormous problem and has to be trucked out and piled in great snow dumps, but that weighty, voluminous substance is entirely ephemeral: pick up a handful and merely breathe on it, and watch it disappear.

Comments

[Rachel Barenblat]

These pastels are really beautiful, Beth. And thank you for reminding me of some of the visual beauties of the northern winter. What you say about the deep blue of shadows on snow reminds me of the incredible blue of the crevasses we saw on the glacier where we were fortunate enough to hike in Patagonia several years ago...

[NT]

I admire your ability to admire snow. I'll admit that it's pretty and captivating… for about 15 minutes! Your images are just lovely and not at all cold, which suggests that I'd enjoy having them around for much more than 15 minutes.

[Beth]

Thank you, Rachel, and thanks for the reminder about glaciers. I was thinking about that blue of crevasses, which I've only seen in photos and films - maybe one day in Iceland!

Thanks, NT! Actually snow is an acquired taste if you don't grow up in it, I think. I'm always sorry for the immigrants who've come here from warm countries and spend the whole time shivering. Not sure they ever get used to it!

[Jennifer]

For some reason, the comments I leave here always tend to disappear. Is it something I'm doing?

[Kat]

Yes to this! A few years ago I spent a total of about five weeks of the winter in either California or Florida, for various reasons, and I found to my surprise that I quite missed it! (I also discovered that unless I get to the late-February SAD-induced certainty that this year spring will never come, I don't get to experience the fierce joy and reinvigoration when it finally does.) I've decided that it is the sign of a good winter and summer both if you are thoroughly sick of them before they're done; that way you're ready to move on.

All the lovely work you've been posting has been making me want to get some pastels! I've done a lot of charcoal/pencil drawing, but not much in color. Thanks for the inspiration! :)

[Jean]

Awesome picture, Beth - even more so now seeing some detail!

[Jennifer]

Thanks for your email! What I tried to say yesterday is that I adore winter. Every single thing about it, from the glorious beauty of a snow covered landscape to the murky black slush after a good melting. I just love it. One of my life's biggest dreams - more fantasy, really - is to own a little cabin in the mountains of New Hampshire, tucked away - but not too far! - and spend my winters there, armed with an ample supply of firewood, a few sturdy shelves full of books, and a cast iron soup pot. That's all it would take. Bliss.

The art you've chosen for this post has evoked this dream anew. :-)

[marly youmans]

Snow and blues are wonderful. Twilight snow. Sidelit snow. Snow with blue shadows. I like the pastel and think the vigor of your Iceland pictures is creeping in!

[Hattie]

How lovely. I do miss the winters, but they can be too harsh and last too long. Glad you are getting a break.

[john]

Canadians.. we are a people of the North. Brief respites are great but it just seems wrong somehow to head south to miss the winter and if you did i wonder if you are losing a little of a kind of anchor that ties you to your history

[mike]

Long shadows....looks late in the afternoon, though I guess it could be early morning. Very beautiful.

[mike]

hmmmm....yes, I had a comment disappear too. I really like this picture.