River's Edge
emerging from the frigid cold and capturing what may be the last of the river ice
Forest Wanderer is a space to immerse in the calm and quiet moments of nature—showcasing the small, and often overlooked, magic in the forest. Upgrade for personal journal posts, photo of the month downloads, and to support the heart and soul I pour into everything I create here.
The weeks of frigid winter cold are finally coming to a close; perhaps we’ll encounter such freezing air again before spring arrives, but as we near the end of February, it becomes less and less likely.
Temperatures finally reach 0°C, then slowly inch above it. The ice will soon melt, snow piles will shrink, and rain is forecasted for the days ahead. The gentle warming of the air is felt deep into my bones; I feel myself unthawing and beginning to look toward spring, though it is but a dot on the horizon yet.
But before the melt truly begins, before the beautiful remnants of this arctic pattern leave us, there is time for one last walk to capture the pristine white snow and the sparkling ice in all its glory.
Two months now, after the shortest day, but the sun still travels low in the sky. In the morning hours, light filters through the surrounding trees, casting deep shadows scattered with pockets of brilliant light.
The snow, unmarred and undisturbed, blankets the rocky river’s edge; it collects on rocks rising above the water’s flow, providing puffy hats for the stationary sentinels to wear.
Flat shelves of ice creep out from the shoreline, reaching slowly across the water; progress will be halted now as the freezing temperatures leave us, and the ice will gradually drip down, melting into the river beneath it.
The light dances beautifully here; it mesmerizes both in its absence filled with blue-tinted shadows, and in its presence highlighted with shapes, patterns and textures.
The sun and the air combine their warmth into something I’ve not felt on my skin for quite some time; I settle in soft piles of snow, content to be still without becoming overwhelmingly cold. I watch the water flow endlessly past my feet, I listen to the quiet burble along the shore nearly masked by the louder rush where the river gains speed and ferocity.
The knowledge that spring is near, ish, radiates in my soul like a beacon. I feel my impatience growing and I must rein it gently in. Every season has its place. Its purpose. We may freeze yet again. We may get snow. We may get a lot of snow—March is unpredictable in what it brings us.
Winter still embraces us, albeit gently at this moment in time. I dearly hope it continues to be gentle, so that soon I may feel the earth beneath my feet. For now, we will continue to shuffle through snow and I will still delight in the cool freshness of the air.
Until we meet again,
♡ Whitney
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Beautiful shots!
Thanks for sharing the excellent photo series.