Surrender
The Response: Patch of Green — Jessica
I really do have to surrender my childhood belief that March is spring. Here in Virginia it is not at all. The first stanza of T.S. Eliot’s Little Gidding from the Four Quartets says it best:
Midwinter spring is its own season
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. There is no earth smell
Or smell of living thing. This is the spring time
But not in time’s covenant. Now the hedgerow
Is blanched for an hour with transitory blossom
Of snow, a bloom more sudden
Than that of summer, neither budding nor fading,
Not in the scheme of generation.
Where is the summer, the unimaginable Zero summer?
I love green and blue together. You achieved some great texture. The sticks/branches give the photo an almost 3D effect. It’s a lovely image that makes me think of maps and peaceful spots near the water.