WINTER

2 Tough and Crazy people get together and consider life through the Oracle of the Animated Gif. They contemplate WINTER.  Wintermoon they call it. WHY ?  There’s no moon this year while its on and May isn’t winter anyways. Especially up there in the North. Winter now – well Lloyd from the BUSHRANGERS in Armidale tells me he has had 2 wood fires burning for more than 6 weeks. Thats WINTER even in AUTUMN. HE speaks of WOLLONGONG winters and Kati B is out in Kalang for her first Valley Winter in years NOT that its WINTER YET. NOT at all. SHE – well she last had a southern winter in 1971 and promised herself not to do that again and so far – she hasn’t. Tumbarumba and Canberra were her two cold ones. NOw she does sub tropical WINTERS – except inside of herself where she has known some of the bleak Siberias of which Martin used to speak in Bondi. Then again – IT IS NOT WINTER. So lets consider them. Perhaps the Findhorn and the Sutherland Shire. Mebbe the trip to Arimdale. WINTER IS ELSEWHERE.

There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you…. In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.  ~Ruth Stout

 

 “Ahh, the wide almond groves in full white flower
Stunning in the morning sun.
Old naked Winter in his garb of grays and browns has run.
Forsythia blooms come and go in the blink of a yellow Eye,
Then, suddenly, mysteriously, Green erupts; and we sigh.”
–   Michael P. Garofalo,

( LOOK FOR THIS NAME . HE DOES SOME GREAT STUFF)

Go to the winter woods: listen there, look, watch, and 
“the dead months” will give you a subtler secret than 
any you have yet found in the forest. 
–   Fiona Macleod, Where the Forest Murmurs

One kind word can warm three winter months.
– Japanese Proverb

In the depths of winter I finally learned
there was in me an invincible summer.

by Albert Camus

A silence already filled with noises,
A canvas on which emerges
A chorus of smiles, a winter morning.

 
(John Ashbery (b. 1927), U.S. poet, critic. “Some Trees.”)  

Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.
Elizabeth Bowen

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