This year's dark season was by & large a forced march gone long
from the start. Then in February between the stinking polar vortex and
an ice storm, a new lens arrived. Count that as just in time, for me.
Step away from the screen,
winter demanded. So I did.
Next week about this time, winter's over. My meteorologist tells me so.
Occasionally, the light is good and the wind doesn't blow too hard across the prairie. That and the inevitable turning of
the season from dark to light is all I need know, for now.
With longer days, late winter's sun is warming. The season freezes,
thaws then freezes again. Inexorably, cold darkness melts. There is but to
look.
That first morning with the new lens, stepping gingerly so as not to
slip and break my fool neck (or the lens) on a world sheathed in ice, I spotted
the first frog of the year.
Maybe you don't see that speckled frog caught like a memory by winter in frozen
Lamb's Ear. I didn't, at first. Now I can't unsee it.
But should you drive a harder bargain than me and find an illusory frog
doesn't cut it to pin all seasonal hopes on, there's this:
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