Just Enough Spectacle
(After Snow Scene at Argenteuil by Claude Monet)
It’s that time—ice-sliver and ache—frost at the sides of our eyes. This is the cold season, the winding down. When we were children, we imagined wolves in the woods, amber eyes between trees—excitement more than fear—a beauty that caught inside our breath, deep in the joy we lived for. Unaware of the ground beneath us, we walked into those woods (sometimes astonished), hands open inside our wooly mittens.
Childhood ponds skate into space; and, yes, this is winter—the calendar’s last portion. Just past dawn’s shadow, light flits over the top of things, like the end of another year seen through snow—just enough spectacle to offset time and age, to silence the “I” in who we’ve become.
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Snow Scene at Argenteuil, Claude Monet
