leafless trees
just beyond the brown hilltops
spring waits there
just beyond the brown hilltops
spring waits there
This week's poetry prompt at One Deep Breath is color(ful). You might've noticed lately that I enjoy photographing the landscape when there is snow cover. There's not been very much of it this winter, but I especially like a view like this when there is nothing but a range of browns, made even more noticeable blanketed in white. I love the contrasts, and play them up when I edit a photo like this.
On this particular day I was anxious to walk along the field's edge and to see the wet bottomlands where skunk cabbage should be emerging. Soon, on a warmish and windless night, the woodcock will make its first twittering display flight from the stubble to the right of the path. Later into the season will come the mourning cloaks and the bluebirds and a kestrel to hover above the newly green fields on the welcoming breeze of a spring day.
But not yet. I couldn't take a step towards that hillside or the marsh beyond the scene I captured here. The ice-crusted snow made it all unreachable. Spring is there, over the hilltop, and after the thaw.
31 comments:
Yay! You know it's coming, Laura. Maybe it's time to put the snow behind (although March can be a wicked snow month) and enjoy what's ahead.
Your Haiku is wonderful. Reminds me to try again...
You really know how to force me to think ahead to the good things. I needed this today.
More poetry, Laura. This is just beautiful - the haiku and the prose. I'm so impatient for Spring and share your longing for a glimpse of skunk cabbage - the twittering of the Woodcock at dusk.
Where's the snow? :) We seldom have snow days here.
Dave you smart-alek! When don't you have snow in Alaska?
Mary: March is a tough month, so close to real spring, but not quite. Some things to look forward to anyway - osprey mostly are what I look forward to.
Cathy: I don't think I got out last yeat to see the woodcock, but hope to this year.
Oh I see it Laura, the spring just over the hill, and long for it's warmth and longer days.
The only thing I love about the relentless advance of time: the sureness that spring will indeed come again.
Hey laura--could you email me? Got a question for you. dguzman1@sial.com
Please keep reminding me that spring is coming! We got nailed with a good snowstorm over the weekend and another is forecast later this week.
"spring waits there"
perfect post!
best three liner I've read in months. Perfect, indeed.
Those are my favorite kind of trees, Laura. I like the brown tones, too, a good thing because we haven't had that much snow. Not that I am complaining about that!
Your haiku is very lovely. I have just been to ODB, and nobody's seems to be home! There must be a problem somewhere.
That was me!!!!
Your kestrel is here. I see him every morning on the powerlines, studying the roadshoulder grass.
Soon come.
Lovely, tranquil haiku and I liked your accompanying story.
I'm hopeful that spring is hiding somewhere behind all the grey skies here.
Nice photo processing!
Dave: Glad you found something nice to say about the pic.
;-)
Becca: Hi, thanks for coming by. There isn't any color showing here yet.
FC: Very rarely I spot a kestral in the winter here - doing the very same thing they do eveywhere - hanging out on the power lines.
Sandy: The links at ODB are up now - I like that they're waiting a day or two to post them.
Vicki: Thanks, you're kind.
endment: I'm sure I stole that line from somewhere.
Lynne: Someday your spring will come - we'll keep our eye out for it, okay?
dguzman: Yep, before long we'll be complaining about the heat.
Jayne: Yes! Enough dark and gloom already!
Beautiful photo and haiku. It reminds me how spoiled I am in Southern California, where we've had a bit of an early Spring. My blossoming pear tree has flowered and I have green grass growing for the first time in months in my back yard.
Ah, sweet anticipation. Nicely captured.
Love the picture, I'm still enjoying the seasons of both winter and spring. Beautiful.
Terrific haiku - nice to know that spring waits beyond the stark treeline.
The photo is stunning. I enjoyed your haiku and story too, spring is waiting!
Great. A really strong sense of spring, and thereby its colours, being close but just out of reach.
I've always liked browns.
Your photo looks like a painting, stark yet trembling with potential.
The haiku is spare just like the picture.
Fantastic, Laura. And your last paragraph was magical. Wow!
And, I'm cracking up as I type because the security word for this comment is "eeetwwky"
How funny is THAT? :)
Breathtaking photo! And the haiku is wonderful! I smile and send a hopeful spring thaw your way.
Such a beautiful picture and haiku- it makes me long for just a little snow- but no chance where I live!
LauraHinNJ
Stark, patiently waiting for spring. You've captured the essence in One Deep Breath.
rel
Jodi: Thank you. I almost can't imagine enjoying spring without the cold and anticipation that come before.
Shelley: Thank you for saying so.
follow my ink: I don't know where you are, but March, especially, is such a tease with the feel of spring one day followed by a few days of winter.
paris parfait: Yes - can't you just see it there?
crafty green poet: Glad you liked it. What is spring waiting for?
;-)
Jem: Hi and thanks. I think spring feels so much closer when you're aware of the small changes - in the light, increased bird song and insect activity, etc.
Brian: Yes! All those browns make me want to learn some synonyms.
Liza: Some Blogger employee just have lots of fun dreaming those up.
get zapped: Thanks - send more sun please!
regina: Aww that's too bad - snow makes you appreciate the greens when they come.
remiman: Thanks. I have fun trying anyway.
*sigh* Spring, how I long for it to arrive. Lovely haiku.
I loved the contrast you captured in the photo. Your haiku set the scene beautifully.
that's an "ah" photo...there's a perfectly balanced tension between the brown and the white...the positive and the negative space...nicely done. Also liked the spareness of your haiku and the last line of your narrative..."Spring is there, over the hilltop, and after the thaw."
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