Last light of the sun

Winter 2010-11 on Roundtop Mtn. is so far much the way of typical winters here—mostly a dry and chilly season. The dry part means I see a limited amount of snow or any other form of precipitation and that also translates into winter being a largely brown season in the forest.

For me, the brown season presents challenges to photography, especially during this part of the winter when I am rarely at home during the brightest hours of a day. Browns dominate my landscape—brown tree trunks, brown leaves on the ground, brown branches.

Variation in color during a brown winter, when I find it, is subtle, often the result of forest textures or ebbing light. And yet, I find winter’s subtleties a calming influence on my sometimes frenetic activity and scattered thoughts. To see and appreciate winter’s nature, I have to slow down and look for it.

Winter’s charms do not jump up and demand my attention. Winter makes no demands and expects no recognition or applause. I have to search for the season’s special nuances, a welcome change from the high drama of the warmer seasons. And yet, as much as I enjoy the slower pace, it takes me a while to find that groove again, to explore the slowness and decreased intensity.

For me, the price of doing more, of speeding up to do more things, always reduces the depth of what I do. Speed means hitting the high points and ignoring everything else. Winter reminds me yet again that more isn’t better. Doing fewer things really means doing the things I do more completely, which is why so often, doing less really does mean doing more—doing more completely.