The Day after the Blizzard--Seasonal Color Schemes
The predicted blizzard arrived a little late but left plenty of wet snow sticking to trees and shrubs. The sun came out earlier today, with the result a dazzling landscape of white, icy blue, and slate grays and black--one of my favorite color schemes.
It reminds me of those days in early January when I was growing up, when the Christmas tree and all the holiday decorations had been put away, and the house seemed suddenly bare and, well, kind of plain. The new calendars would be hung, almost always with the January picture just like the view outside our own windows, bare branches, coats of snow, and brittle blue skies. Sometimes there would be a close up shot of a cardinal or some red berries, maybe even a red barn in the setting, the same touch of color that Mom would say the old time quilters would use to brighten up their quilts.
I loved snow storms and always felt a tug of sadness and loss on the day after when the sun came out. It was that same sense of emptiness I felt in the now undecorated house. But these were the days when the seed catalogs started arriving, and we all would sit and look through the pictures of beautiful fruits and vegetables, taunting us with reminders of summer weather to come. These were the evenings, too, when Dad would bring out the flat iron and hammer and have one of us go down to the basement to bring up some hickory nuts for cracking. Mom would get out one of her heavy old pans and soon there would be sugar syrup cooking for beating into the whipped egg whites for divinity. Or maybe there would be the smell of chocolate cooking into velvety fudge. There would be talk of taffee pulls from years past, when a sugary concoction would be cooked and then a couple of people would need to work together to stretch the hot batter into brittle or chewy sugary candy. Somehow, however, we never got to making taffee, even though Linda and I longed to try it out. Still, it was hard to complain about the candy that we did make. We took turns beating the candy, often while Dad turned from cracking nuts to peeling a few apples for all of us to share.
The apples would also have come from the basement, a dark and scary place, unfinished with the smell of slightly damp dirt and always the threat of a rat or mouse to be seen. While I don't know that we ever had rats there, Dan made sure to tell Linda and I plenty of stories to keep us fearful every time we had to go down for something. This was, after all, the "root cellar" that kept so much of fall's produce through the winter. There were the bushel baskets of apples from our own orchard and potatoes from our garden or purchased from a neighbor. Scrap wood had been put together to store jars and jars of canned vegetables and fruit from the garden and from the "flats" of peaches and 30 pound cans of frozen cherries purchased from those who traveled over to Michigan to bring back pickup loads of the fruit we didn't have in our own area.
The hickory nuts were usually in burlap bags--"gunny sacks"--that we had used to collect the nuts on golden afternoons in a nearby woods. How different the colors of those autumn days, with bronze, yellow, gold, and reds all against a backdrop of rich browns and still some green underfoot. If I drew trees for pictures at school in the fall, the trunks would be deep brown. In winter, however, those same trees would definitely have trunks of the darkest black.
Now, I am again surrounded by this beautiful icy white, blue, and black color palette and am reminded of how blessed we are to live where there are such drastic seasonal changes.The brightness of the sunny day is magnified by the snow's reflections, and the coated branches and wires and rooftops carry their own beauty. Yes, there are inconveniences, but a day like today is truly one of God's great blessings.
It reminds me of those days in early January when I was growing up, when the Christmas tree and all the holiday decorations had been put away, and the house seemed suddenly bare and, well, kind of plain. The new calendars would be hung, almost always with the January picture just like the view outside our own windows, bare branches, coats of snow, and brittle blue skies. Sometimes there would be a close up shot of a cardinal or some red berries, maybe even a red barn in the setting, the same touch of color that Mom would say the old time quilters would use to brighten up their quilts.
I loved snow storms and always felt a tug of sadness and loss on the day after when the sun came out. It was that same sense of emptiness I felt in the now undecorated house. But these were the days when the seed catalogs started arriving, and we all would sit and look through the pictures of beautiful fruits and vegetables, taunting us with reminders of summer weather to come. These were the evenings, too, when Dad would bring out the flat iron and hammer and have one of us go down to the basement to bring up some hickory nuts for cracking. Mom would get out one of her heavy old pans and soon there would be sugar syrup cooking for beating into the whipped egg whites for divinity. Or maybe there would be the smell of chocolate cooking into velvety fudge. There would be talk of taffee pulls from years past, when a sugary concoction would be cooked and then a couple of people would need to work together to stretch the hot batter into brittle or chewy sugary candy. Somehow, however, we never got to making taffee, even though Linda and I longed to try it out. Still, it was hard to complain about the candy that we did make. We took turns beating the candy, often while Dad turned from cracking nuts to peeling a few apples for all of us to share.
The apples would also have come from the basement, a dark and scary place, unfinished with the smell of slightly damp dirt and always the threat of a rat or mouse to be seen. While I don't know that we ever had rats there, Dan made sure to tell Linda and I plenty of stories to keep us fearful every time we had to go down for something. This was, after all, the "root cellar" that kept so much of fall's produce through the winter. There were the bushel baskets of apples from our own orchard and potatoes from our garden or purchased from a neighbor. Scrap wood had been put together to store jars and jars of canned vegetables and fruit from the garden and from the "flats" of peaches and 30 pound cans of frozen cherries purchased from those who traveled over to Michigan to bring back pickup loads of the fruit we didn't have in our own area.
The hickory nuts were usually in burlap bags--"gunny sacks"--that we had used to collect the nuts on golden afternoons in a nearby woods. How different the colors of those autumn days, with bronze, yellow, gold, and reds all against a backdrop of rich browns and still some green underfoot. If I drew trees for pictures at school in the fall, the trunks would be deep brown. In winter, however, those same trees would definitely have trunks of the darkest black.
Now, I am again surrounded by this beautiful icy white, blue, and black color palette and am reminded of how blessed we are to live where there are such drastic seasonal changes.The brightness of the sunny day is magnified by the snow's reflections, and the coated branches and wires and rooftops carry their own beauty. Yes, there are inconveniences, but a day like today is truly one of God's great blessings.
posted by hl at
12:16 PM
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