#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Walden Pond in winter
“Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden
I watched, early, for some colors to come to the sky, some glory or burst to break the bleakness of the clouds. They were thick, and the light so low, and the sun didn’t penetrate much. But we walked and took our time, moseying around the slushy ice. Yes, the winter scene felt dull today, the brown crispy leaves messy, messy. Still, I spent time looking into the windows of the brook the ice made, and passing the rushing brook, on my way home, I looked to the shallow bottom and there was a small frog, splayed, white belly up under the cold water. Poor frog. I walked as long as I could, but had to get ready for my Concord workshop, print my poem, which I tweaked one last time before walking. After this holiday break, I was so happy to be around the table, hearing poems, talking craft. The poems shared were strong and interesting; I felt appreciative of the positive response for mine. I feel it’s strong. I see some things to be ironed out; I feel that I can solve them. Yesterday’s time on it was worth it. I drove home through Concord, stopped for a quick walk down the entrance to Walden Pond. An inch of snow covered the sand. One swimmer was drying himself off with a towel, another was in the pond in a wet suit. The man on the pond said, “It’s warming up.” He was cheered and lightened by his dip, I could tell. Some spots of slushy ice pocked the surface. I thought how much this one man, writer, walker, nature lover, influenced millions. One would imagine millions have read Thoreau, or heard him quoted or referred to. He liked to walk, and to write, and to visit the pond of his town in every weather, and his spirit is alive here as any of us with our cold feet and freezing skin. Today, I resigned myself to the influence of the gray clouds and thin ice, the color of these clouds and its lines and curves and cracks and shatter.
Morning brook