Saturday, January 29, 2011
Visual deprivation on Hearthstone Drive
Just warm enough outside to blur the edges of the snow. When I stepped out the door, the small sound of the icicles dripping off the roof -- pianissimo, uneven -- could fool you that it's warmer than it is. A spring sound. The clouds are that white-gray that blends in along the horizon, like we are in a big sphere of nothing. Visual deprivation. Filled the birdfeeder; earlier, the cardinals had come by and emptied it, bright spots of welcome red. I followed my own footsteps back through the yard. Later the steps looked as if someone had left winter behind, and not come back. Yet I had.