The snow was around for a couple days before melting away as it always does. I didn’t even get a chance to photograph it very well and there was hardly any time to actually shovel the driveway or throw melting salt on the slick ice. It will likely return in late December or January and be a tease. These funny weather patterns have been going on for some time in Michigan. There is always a pre-snow, a little teaser trailer of what is to come, that quickly goes away and doesn’t come back until the real premiere later on, much like Star Wars this year. Think of it as an appetizer before the main entree. The weather is very erratic here and predicting it is like predicting when a red Ford Focus is going to pass you by on the road. As there are many different colored cars in the world and not every one is a Focus, the chances of getting it correct are slim.
My mood with the weather is fairly consistent. If it is cold and wet outside, I’m moody and depressed and turn inward, resorting to more humble affairs indoors. If it’s sunny and hot out, I am more happier and energetic and my thoughts come out a little more bouncy like, inspiration coming in short incoherent bursts. If the weather is just kind of blah and stale, I can be quite the same way and get stuck in a neutral state of boring and believe me, being in a bored state does not produce very good results no matter how hard you try.
Weather wrecks havoc on my immunity system and this is a proven fact by at least 100 scientists – just kidding. Every year around this time, I catch the seasonal cold and my body responds in the oddest way. My eyes get itchy, my throat gets sore, and even my hair starts to fall out of place or dry out. The increased stress on my body also brings out a bad case of skin breakout. Going outside in the dead of winter one day and then going outside to a summer like December has a way of messing up your system. Like the ear infection I’ve had for at least a week now which has made even writing with a quality flair difficult because of my annoyance of it wrecking my train of thought.
That picture above is one that has been floating around this blog for some time now. I took it last year in January and it’s probably the best original representation of winter that I have come up with so far, mostly because I am too lazy to get another one. The picture also goes well with the snow that is falling on my page. The snow is falling because I still have the feature turned on from last year and I have forgotten where the place is to turn it off. Why bother with it I guess.
In Response to the Daily Prompt: Climate Control
The idea that the weather and people’s moods are connected is quite old. Do you agree? If yes, how does the weather affect your mood?
Whited out the world
November’s dream just come true
Day as pure as angels
Then the night comes
And all goes silent
And we are free to
Rock out like a
In Response to the Daily Prompt: A Tale of Two Cities
If you could split your time evenly between two places, and two places only, which would these be?
One day in the early spring of 2011, I decided to hike up a mountain of hard packed snow. It overlooked a small city of buildings and cars. The air was like Jack Frost, nipping at my nose, and little flakes of frozen water were falling on my messy head of hair. The perfect place for a self-portrait or profile shot, or selfie as it is called now but wasn’t back then. I took my camera phone, held it out at arms length, tried my best photogenic look, and pressed the shutter button. I’m the king of the mountain, I thought, standing there and looking all around the sleepy campus of Spring Arbor University. I was nineteen years old and just finishing up my first year of college there. I actually lived in my own house with my family right on campus, though we moved out of there a month later because of some unsolvable disputes between a stubborn relative and the rest of us.
2011 was a year of discovery for me, trying to find who I was inside. It was the year I first picked up a guitar and tried to learn how to play it, repeating lots of the boring stuff over and over again. It was also the year I truly felt on my own, having graduated from high school the year before. I felt the pressure on me to find my own way because no one was going to tell me anymore and that made me feel vulnerable and alone. But of course, I felt like a rebel kid with my black leather jacket on, walking out there in the cold with a little strut in my step, but not too naïve to realize I was a little man in a big world that seemingly had no directions laid out for me. It was my job to write them myself.
This picture of me hails from the social construct of Facebook in one of my older albums. Everything seemed so much different back then, more fuller and livelier, but then again the people that died recently were alive in 2011, including a number of my relatives. And we weren’t all spread out across the country. I wasn’t even making any money back then, like I get to do now by donating fluids from my arm for life-saving medicine. Time marched on.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Snapshot Stories.”
Open the first photo album you can find — real or virtual, your call — and stop at the first picture of yourself you see there . Tell us the story of that photo.
Ocean of cold deep snow.
Buried bench blanket
Sun rays shine down over white
Two-toned landscape everywhere.
April A to Z Challenge
I thought it would be interesting to take another long walk into my favorite forest spot, now with snow going up just below my knees. I found this little guy, I like to call him Mr. Tufkins, and placed him on a fallen tree limb. He began to admire the huge, magnificent scene before him, the snow, in his eyes, stretching for miles around, like a cold desolate planet he so happened to crash land on. He asked me what I was doing with that weird snapping device in my hands, me going around him, crouching down low in the freeze; I told him kindly that I was taking pictures for another Weekly Photo Challenge. And so he grinned, puffed himself up, and posed nicely in the thin bed of limb snow, gazing at the big world before him, so vulnerable and innocent and full of charmed wonder.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Scale
Buried in a thick sea of precip
The big winter blast
Unexpected visitor arriving late