January 17, 2003

Winter Walk Revisited

Image copyright Fred First Summer is soft, yielding, supple. Winter is hard, unyielding and brittle. You can feel winter through your feet and hear it in your steps. Cold dry air has its own smell, and it almost seems that there is a sound that belongs to the cold of winter. The sound of winter is the sound of breathing, ears muffled keeping the beat of your own heart trapped in wool, like an echo in an empty shell.

No birds call, insects sleep frozen solid under bark and sod. Winter smells of wool and wrapped human grit underneath. From beyond the thick encumbering shroud of winter clothes there is only the near-fragrance of frost. No motes of aroma escape on warm currents from spicebush, sassafras, white pine, from dank soft creek mud or pasture clover. There should be a olfactory adjective, like 'monochrome', to describe the stark lunar aromasphere of winter.

Posted by fred1st at January 17, 2003 07:39 AM | TrackBack
Comments

Before I go out and tend to my garden let me say this: Winter is different here, too. Less rain.

Posted by: Charlie at January 17, 2003 08:23 AM

Wonderful description Fred...I do sometimes miss the clean crispness of winter.

I'll mull it over today while having lunch on the patio in a tee-shirt. ;-)

~f

Posted by: feste at January 17, 2003 09:52 AM

Today is a rare Houston day where the air feels as clear and crisp as yours looks. I understand about the smell of winter on days like this. Cold air just smells good. Maybe all the pollution here is cold blooded and decided just to stay home in bed...

Posted by: Cody at January 17, 2003 11:13 AM

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