Silent Night Music

SilentNightSnow.

.

By the time we see something, we usually already know what we’re going to see and we’re only surprised if our eyes don’t perceive the expected sight.

.

How do we know in advance what we’re going to see?

Often it is because our other senses have informed us, told our mind which has told our eyes, of what is to come.

.

Weather is something we feel, taste, smell, hear in advance… before we see it.

.

If there is a thunderstorm approaching, the hairs on our body may stand up to attention. We may feel weighted down by the humidity in the air. We may smell a freshness in the wind, blowing the scents which hail from places where the storm has already broken. and of course, we can hear it, the crack of lightning, the rumble of thunder… counting between the two to know how close or how far it is. Is it coming near or moving away?

.

We are not always consciously aware of what our senses know…

.

Snow… is silent, yet not so silent. It has a music, one which can be heard, felt, sensed, seen.

.

It gets bitterly cold, then a sudden warmth… snow is falling, rustling, rain but not rain, brushing against surfaces. It sometimes hisses as it touches the ground.

.

It seems silent because the cloud cover is dense and muffles other sounds, but its own music is loud and clear. Each snowflake is a note… a very special little note, part of a larger orchestra, a greater concert.

.

There is something very exciting about snow at night… I tried to capture that moment, the first snow of Winter, the thrill of it falling, bright yet dark. Washing everything out, covering the blemishes in a blanket of pureness… a moment of pure joy. Here, now… not thinking about what will be in the morrow, not worrying about all the problems this may cause for you, others, the human way of life…

.

I can’t remember if this snow was the one which came during the Winter when my water pipes froze for a couple of weeks and I lived on snow coffee…

Such is life…

What happens now, as dramatic as it may be and seems to us at the time…Β  drifts away and becomes a memory.

.

A memory captured in an image which reminds our eyes of what all our senses experienced.

.

.

Advertisements