Midwinter spring is its own seasonBeing out in the countryside in this cold, clear light brings life..
Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown,
Suspended in time, between pole and tropic.
When the short day is brightest, with frost and fire,
The brief sun flames the ice, on pond and ditches,
In windless cold that is the heart’s heat,
Reflecting in a watery mirror
A glare that is blindness in the early afternoon.
And glow more intense than blaze of branch, or brazier,
Stirs the dumb spirit: no wind, but pentecostal fire
In the dark time of the year. Between melting and freezing
The soul’s sap quivers.
Disorganization personified, music, and faith and computing - but zero attention spa..
Wednesday, December 03, 2014
The Cold season
Those who follow me elsewhere may have already picked up the news that I'm working again - out of IT - driving for a local artisan bakers Flour Water Salt - very local to us - 5 mins walk from the house. I get to drive though quiet bits of Cheshire countryside and there's frequent visits to Jodrell Bank. Today was the first really cold day, so here's a photo and a quote from T S Eliot's Little Gidding:
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