Winter

In an attempt to dispose of the assumptions that winter is a season of gloomy demeanor, rife with murky shadows, mist and rain, I have encapsulated these beautiful shots of nature in film to put those close-minded thoughts to shame. To the first snap, however, I must owe my grandfather full credit for, he's quite the hidden photographer.

1. Dawn   I was under the misconception that this was taken at sunset, until my grandfather informed me otherwise. It was in fact taken at dawn, sunrise, considerably early in the morning during one of my grandfathers notorious early morning dog walks. He said he heard the birds singing, chirping away, calling the sun awake, as if they were praising the suns glory in all its brightness. He said the frost was diminished in seconds after the sun had risen, melting away the coldness once there before. I wish I could have been there and I hate to go as far-fetched to say this but I shall say it anyway; it looks absolutely magical. I wish I could have been there, to feel the great rush of momentum swoosh right through me by the power of such a view, to have my breath taken away from me, gasping for air as the oxygen is knocked right out my chest from the sheer beauty that would command my being and prevail my conscience. So, here's to my grandad, because I sure a hella could notta taken this without keeling over utterly gormless. 
2. Twilight   I squeezed my feet into some wellington boots and rushed outside to chase after a rainbow I had seen at the bottom of the garden, only to find myself more drawn to this african-esque sunset. I stood there looking at it for ages, until I was transported to Africa, feeling the tremble of the ground as the gazelles leaped around me, seeing the haze of the sticky heat buzz in the air, until I was shocked back to reality by the gloss of the winter chill. It was magnificent to see the cross over between sun and moon as dusk crept silently in. I have always found twilight a time so precious because it makes you feel like you're hanging in limbo, until the sunset overrides. It almost looks in this picture too as though the darkness is sweeping in from the right to crush the sunlight for sleep; swapping sides. To witness such wonderment from your back garden will never cease to amaze me and it was on christmas day too.
3. Nightfall   This was not strictly taken in winter but rather the eve eve of all hallows on a wet and windy night. It is a picture most definitely suited to the halloween holiday, effervescing in spooky shades shadowing the holiday. Technicalities aside however, it still remains worthy of this post, albeit ebbing with melancholic doom and gloom as many perceive winter to be, it has a dark beauty to it that juxtaposes the other images. I ran outside barefoot in such a hurry, still wearing my plaid pyjamas to take this, enchanted by the skeletal features of the trees that spread such wisdom cast against the dark blue sky as deep as the ocean that would occasionally spark in splendor as their electrified roots were shot with lightning. I stayed awhile, until the chill of my numb feet brought me back inside, but the glaze of the blackness spiked with colour remained in my mind forever.    
4. Dusk   I leaned out of the window with an air of distinct hesitation to snap this shot, but it turned out perfectly so I needn't have worried. The trees are stripped bare of their accessories, whilst the rest of the garden is sprouted with shades of luscious green, bursting with the bouts of nature; unmarked by their deadened cousins. They say there is With the darkness fast approaching, the shadows of the evening are inescapable when dusk has it's promptness so very fine-tuned. The lighting captures the "inbetween" moment that is so often see in winter, when you can't quite tell if it's morning or evening and that, is beautiful. It's shrouded with mystery, winter always is.

It should not be noted that all of these pictures were impulse inspired, with no intention of taking them they more or less simply happened. The beauty of winter should never be underestimated, somewhat to my mothers dismay, yet wise words it would be worth her while remembering.

My mother always sighs when the evenings start drawing in, with the words "it's miserable" clinging to the air. This beyond defeats my comprehension, because beauty, I find, is often found in the darkest of times. Oh dear, I am desperately close to quoting Albus Dumbledore, so I better end this here.