Friday, March 23, 2007

Vernal Verite

John Henry Twachtman (1853-1902.)
American Impressionism.
Cincinnati Art Museum.

My street is shrouded in snow ghosts this morning. Vapor wavers beside the street lamp on the boulevard, blinded by passing headlights, uncertain whether to sink into the raw ground or rise and drift.

I think they will drift, down the slow slope of the street toward the harbor, joining with others of their kind from other streets and secret laneways, to weave and shimmer one last time above the water.

I feel the soul of winter passing.

I wonder if today the sun will wash away the last, leperous scabs of snow, hunched, discontented, by my driveway.
We need light. To sooth the scars of memory and desire, burned deep by dark and ice. We need bird song and the song of water, free.
I have been very faithful, but I will not be posting on weekends any longer.


kmfrontain said...

We have bird song, out here in the country. Males of certain species are already setting up territory, but the snow is still a few feet deep most everywhere in our yard.

Jaye Wells said...

If you write this beautifully about the end of winter, I can't wait to see what spring brings forth for you.

Bernita said...

At the end of winter, Karen, I wonder how white can be so dark.

Oh, Jaye, what a lovely thing to say. Thank you.

writtenwyrdd said...

Beautiful post. When that ground fog hangs in the air on an otherwise bright morning, it is beautiful.

I'll miss your weekend blogs, but you ought to write when you feel like it for a blog!

Ric said...

This winter has taken a toll on all of us. Spring is trying hard to make an appearance here in Southern Michigan. The snow is nearly gone, a few patches deep in the woods yet.
I'll miss my Sunday morning communion with you, but your extra hours spent in the garden may have greater returns, materially and spiritualy.

Bernita said...

Thank you, Written.I write best in the mornings and now I need those hours.

Dear Ric...Thank you.
This morning I saw two flocks of geese going north, flying between the bars of cloud, joyously.

December Quinn said...

What a lovely post...but it makes me worry that you're not okay, especially if you're not going to be around on weekends anymore.

So I hope you are in fact okay. And we'll miss you on weekends.

This winter has seemed much harder than any other, hasn't it?

Carla said...

Lovely description.
I agree with Writtenwyrdd, write when you feel like it. Five posts a week is still pretty prolific - I can only manage one or occasionally two.
Enjoy your extra free time at the weekends!

Bernita said...

You're a dear girl, December.Thank you for your concern.
I am just - tired. I need the sun.I need the earth. I need to replenish energy I spent this winter.

Thank you, Carla. You may only post a couple of times a week but your posts are always worthwhile and a pleasure to read.

Gabriele C. said...

That's a beautiful image, Bernita. Reminds me of the Minor Annals.

We didn't get a decent winter this year so spring crept in without me really noticing. I even found the late snow of the last days amusing rather than annoying, and it's gone already.

I wish I didn't have that birch allergy. It spoils spring for me.

Scott from Oregon said...

Just for the record (or the cd?) when you write with your own voice you have an inspired and heavenly tone.

Some day, bernita should write a book--

Bonnie Calhoun said...

The robins are back. The snow is gone. The river is on the rise along with a crescendo of flood warnings...auhh, the sounds of spring!

I love your Ode To The End Of Winter!

Bernita said...

Thank you, Gabriele.
Your snow pictures were lovely. It must be hard to appreciate beauty when eyes and nose run.

Aw, Scott. Sweet of you.

Hope you keep your feet and powder dry, Bonnie! Thank you.

Erik Ivan James said...

Such an eloquent goodbye to winter and hello to spring.

Dear Gal, there are so few who say things better, maybe none.

Rest, and enjoy.

Bernita said...

Another Dear Guy...thank you, Erik.
Not a rest - a change. They say that's just as good.

Nicole Kelly said...

Thank you for such a beautiful description. It made my morning.

Bernita said...

How nice of you to say, Nicole! Thank you.

Robyn said...


Bernita said...

Thank you, Robyn.

Sam said...

What lovely imagery!!
And have a wonderful weekend - it's true that when spring comes, and then summer, outside beckons and the computer screen doesn't look as bright...

Bernita said...

Thank you, Sam.
That's true - and tasks multiply.

J-Town said...

Hello I was wondering if you would be so kind as to link exchange with me? I am trying to get my blog more noticed and I would love it if you would add me as one of your links. I will do the same for you! My link is

Thank you!!


spyscribbler said...

Hey, I'm so with you on changing, drawing lines, etc.

Anyway, we have crocuses today. White and purple. The first of spring. :-) A good time for change, right?

Have a great weekend!

Bernita said...

James, I am so far behind on having my links up-dated it isn't funny.
If you blog about writing I'd be glad to add you or mention your site, but if you're just flitting around with commercial intent, then forget it.

Thank you, Natasha. One lonely crocus showed purple under my smoke tree this morning!

M.E Ellis said...

Christ your words are beautiful, B. Make me want to cry.

Will you write a novel of such wording so I can scoff it?


Bernita said...

Thank you, Michelle.
Lovely compliment.
(I blinked at the slang for a minute, before I twigged!)

Daisy Dexter Dobbs said...

"I wonder if today the sun will wash away the last, leperous scabs of snow, hunched, discontented, by my driveway."

What a picturesque, appealing line, Bernita. I loved this entire post. You have a true talent for creating memorable, haunting imagery with words.

Bernita said...

Dear Daisy! Thank you. Kind of you to say that.