The past month or so has been a real bitch weatherwise. It’s that time of the year in New England when you hear the same old quotes on the radio and television – exasperated people, as if pleading for their lives, crying “I’m so sick of this” or “Where is spring?” Even The Boston Globe has run their annual “we have no subjects for op-ed today, so let’s talk about winter’s last gasp” column. Well, I am more or less among them. I’ve about had it, really. This winter has been something along the lines of the 4th worst winter for snowfall in our state’s history or something and it’s evident in my own attitude lately.However, among all the cursing as I clean off the car for the umpteenth time or the sheer pain-in-the-assity of shoveling our walkways yet again, there came a time recently when I stepped out to the backyard and saw this. It was an achingly quiet, sharp, clear morning after a snowstorm and I looked out back to find a completely untainted, beautiful sight like the one above. I felt like I was capturing something special with this shot, something I’ll look back on in the years to come and relish – the silent beauty that came attached to this. It was a silence and a hushed moment you just can’t capture with a snapsnot and at the same time, I had a bitter wish for it all to just go the hell away.
And yes, “pain-in-the-assity” is a word.