We Montrealers have had many overcast days here of late, punctuated by the occasional - and always welcome - brilliant, sunny interlude. As I write this it is snowing what I call 'crazy flakes,' this being a snowfall that includes flakes that fall downward, as well as float sideways and upwards. Like I said, crazy. Yesterday a fine mist fell, with a bout of large, fluffy flakes that I enjoyed through the leaded windows (and from the snug confines) of the library. I won't talk about the ice.
All this grey light leaves me craving the lifted spirits and burst of energy that accompanies waking up to a winter sun. That being true, I'm also gobsmacked by the beauty of this winter light - the glow of lamplights as daylight fades, how the aged copper roof of an old convent is a soft pale green (similar to the ice I photographed on my window), how a seemingly solid white sky can, upon closer inspection, reveal streaks of salmon, rose and pale tangerine. How the shell pink that lines Noah's nose is picked up by the blanket he loves to snooze on.
This type of weather is the flip side of burst of energy I get from a sunny winter day; I can't help but slow down and notice what is around me a bit more. And these are a few of the things I've noticed .
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