Story
Winter's End Previous Story
Through a small window, watching the seasons change, I sense my connection to the endless nature of time.
I sit at the shuttered window at dusk, leaning my elbows on the red weathered tiles that line the rustic Tuscan window, hands cupped to my face.
The valley drifts away in blue layers that fade into the deep russet tones. In the fields, cypress, vineyards and olive groves seem about to awaken after the long winter. I muse on the days that have rolled in ancient succession over this scene: winter in her tattered clothes, weary once again in her cold March striving. I imagine those who lived centuries before in this valley, and wonder how they felt when winter dragged her feet and heaved a melancholy sigh.
I follow the familiar contours of the hills to where I see the clouds as smoke spiraling from a simmering, slow-burning fuse that ignites and animates the sleepy hill-towns all along the line. The clouds hang in curious, lingering wisps. I listen hard and imagine I can hear the mountains breathe. In the fog across the valley, lights flicker on as night falls. Indigo and navy creep over my view, obscuring details.
Winter loosens her hold as I watch—I am witnessing the silent turning of rebirth. Watching the hazy, flickering valley, I feel its calm and anticipate my own imminent season of awakening—surely it will bring growth and change as well.
You may want to visit our other websites:
The Journey - The Ride of a Lifetime
Winter's End Music Video
Uncommon Promise Video Channel
Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog
The UP Side Lowdown by Cheryl
New Music - Virtual CD
The valley drifts away in blue layers that fade into the deep russet tones. In the fields, cypress, vineyards and olive groves seem about to awaken after the long winter. I muse on the days that have rolled in ancient succession over this scene: winter in her tattered clothes, weary once again in her cold March striving. I imagine those who lived centuries before in this valley, and wonder how they felt when winter dragged her feet and heaved a melancholy sigh.
Peaks and smoky swirls
I follow the familiar contours of the hills to where I see the clouds as smoke spiraling from a simmering, slow-burning fuse that ignites and animates the sleepy hill-towns all along the line. The clouds hang in curious, lingering wisps. I listen hard and imagine I can hear the mountains breathe. In the fog across the valley, lights flicker on as night falls. Indigo and navy creep over my view, obscuring details.
Winter loosens her hold as I watch—I am witnessing the silent turning of rebirth. Watching the hazy, flickering valley, I feel its calm and anticipate my own imminent season of awakening—surely it will bring growth and change as well.
You may want to visit our other websites:
The Journey - The Ride of a Lifetime
Winter's End Music Video
Uncommon Promise Video Channel
Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog
The UP Side Lowdown by Cheryl
New Music - Virtual CD
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