on the thaw

sometimes a body can be overwhelmed by the bleakness of the mountains in March. not bleak in the visual sense- for the brightest and most glittering part of the year is when the snow loads gleam blindingly  at midday. rather, I mean bleak in terms of the unchanging days, the absence of color and the cold that keeps us bundled and indoors. part of this is because you hear nice things about sprouts occurring in other parts of the world, sweet winds moving across the frozen ground, that sort of thing. sometimes this happens close to home indeed, in a valley not far off...

and of course, this is an inspiring phenomenon. literally, hope pushing sharply upward, a forceful stretch into brilliance. but up high March has never been a herald of spring, indeed sometimes March marks just the beginning of the snow. more frequently though, it is a stubborn, and convincing extension of the cold unchanging whiteness of February. as a result our antennae at this elevation are more finely tuned to the subtleties of spring. what we notice, zipped up in down and wool, is a kind of softening of edges. a warming in the spectrum of the many whites that snow takes on. the shadows seem velvety as they drape the snowfields instead of sharp and cutting.

if we are still enough, turn our noses to the wind, squint towards the sky, we can feel spring. inwardly only, but still there is a stirring! we go climbing about the drifts in thick socks and bare arms. heads uncovered. gum boots.

there is a kind of frivolous delirium, traveling to investigate where else the minute and clandestine thaw is making itself known. sometimes we overdo it and we end up with wet sock consequences...

 

but we find, anyway, that it helps. for early March is the time when we are thirstiest for color and movement. maybe because we are so frequently cold, or because we've catalogued all the kinds of white we can. 

ice rot white

frozen aqueduct white

snow under halogen white

moon on snow white

snow on snow white

the whiteness of deep sleep

thirst

restlessness

white quiet

regardless, to know that spring will in fact spring, as it dependably does is a kind of savior. we strive to bear it gracefully. we go out into the gray in our brightest hats, with our faces turned upwards.