A Photographic Respite from Winter

Although our white Christmas is over, the snow and the cold are not over and most likely won't be for some while - a good time to stay inside and play with photo layers! And to create some pictorial respite from the cold.

We need this

because we have too much of this

Happy New Year, everyone!

A Real Northerner

Over the last twenty years, I have become a real northerner.

When I first moved north from Vancouver, I watched the weather channel every day with growing trepidation as October morning temperatures slid into the minus range. When it hit minus 4, I really bundled up for the eight-minute walk to work - leggings under jeans, down-filled jacket, scarf, and mittens. I sprinted to work so as not to freeze to death on the way (that's how it felt).

My colleagues were practically rolling on the floor laughing at me and wondered just what I would do when it was minus 40. Truth be told, I almost couldn't comprehend weather that cold. What would I do?

I took a lot of taxis during my first winter in the north and invested in an extra long, extra downy coat, heavier mittens, woollen scarves, and, something I hadn't worn in winter since childhood - a hat.  On the day after Boxing Day, it was minus 44 without windchill! Spring seemed so very far away.

A few days ago, the temperature was minus 33 in the morning (and probably rose to a "balmy" minus 29 later in the day). I still have not completely gotten over the bit of fear that accompanies such low temperatures - what if I become stranded and freeze?

But, it's workable, with cars plugged in overnight and warm clothes. Sometimes, it's this cold, and colder, periodically from November through March. We carry on.

I knew that my transformation to true northerner was complete when the early morning temperature on Thursday was ONLY minus 23. I felt real relief and happiness that it had warmed up!

Today it was minus 7 (with the heavy snow that always accompanies the rising temperature) - no leggings, no heavy coat, no scarf, and no hat. Just relief that it was warm.

How things have changed.




top photo credit -  http://www.insidestl.com/Portals/0/ladies/220_Bundled.jpg

Northern Solstice

Circumpolar winters are hard on people, body-and-soul hard. Even at the southern edge of the Arctic region, we go to work in the dark and come home in the dark, with at best only eight hours between sunrise and sunset.

I always recognize a certain something in the art and literature of Nordic countries, a relationship to snow, dark, and cold that is absent from the winter scenes of more southerly climes - and a take on life that contains both joy and a certain resolute bleakness.

The work of Edvard Munch captures the northern mood. Living north of 60 hardens Norwegians to the rigours of winter, the biting cold and the seemingly endless dark.

There are two Munch paintings called Starry Night, one from 1923-24 and and one from 1893. There is a wild variety in the colouration of images pulled from internet sources, but the two below epitomize for me two of the moods of winter found in Munch.

The later painting (1923) captures the brilliant, almost buoyant effects of a winter night in the snow. One feels exhilarated, can imagine being outdoors, and being captivated by the glorious colours. The lights of town and home in the distance are the security that makes staying outside energetic and fun. I can hear the ring of the steel blades of skates in this painting. It all sparkles.

The older painting (1893) portrays the weighed down, it's-still-winter mood one often has at the solstice and on into January, even February. The stars may be out, but the dark is heavy and foreboding.

Throughout the winter, the white changes from the stark white of a new snowfall, through the "brown sugar" stage, to the brown and dirty break-up stage - perhaps winter at its most depressing: like Munch's painting Winter Landscape from 1918.

Usually by the time mud appears in the snow, spring is near. People here begin to shovel the snow from their lawns onto the street to speed things up. As spring comes closer, sprinklers appear in the snow on lawns all over the city. I've seen this nowhere else, but understand the rush to spring.

The light of spring and the breezes of the new, fresh season are a joy, really, and relief that we survived yet another winter.

                                

Munch's painting Spring (1889) says it all. By the time we reach the shortest day of the year, it can't come too soon.

                                                                                                                        

It's Winter at North 54

It's the same every year. After the first significant and lasting snowfall, I feel that it is an aberration and will go away soon. How could it possibly be winter? All will melt; the roads will be clear; no shovelling required.

But, alas, not so.

Winter is here.

These winter photos were taken at Fort George Park yesterday.

The blue of the sky, the reflective snow, and the late afternoon light make for wonderful effects.

The low-angled sunlight, shining through the windows of the museum, right.

Time to go home for some hot cocoa.