Winter is a time for retreat, interior spaces, introspection, dark creativity and hibernation…if one could in theory actually sleep for an extended time. This particular winter in has been one of cyclical sleep with the teething cycles of my infant son, of infinite time spent in the wee hours between soothing a suffering child and listening to the sounds of the season outside: rain tapping the window, the wind off the bay whistling through the shuddering trees, the odd hailstorm pelting the icy ground in staccato bursts of rhythm. The music of the universe when the world is quiet enough to hear it if you listen…
…you are in a winter’s cabin as the elements rattle the windows, howl across the roof, shake the foundations, inside all is calm. You gaze into the flicker of a fire, watching shadows of memories dance upon the walls, as you wait on...a rider to make it through the storm, the arrival of spring, or perhaps the discovery of something that was there inside all along.
