the morning light, filtered through 80 year old glass. glass with all the imperfections that come from the impurities and bubbles and unevenness inherent in building materials that old. those imperfections are what make it difficult to see through in perfect clarity but also what make the light so beautiful as it glows against the plaster walls; movement in the stationary.
and then there is this, the transition between here and gone. ice, cold and hard until warmed by the morning sun light then slowly melting away; the movement of the day.
a new season seemed only hours away on sunday afternoon. each day i lie in bed and listen to the robin and black-capped chickadee greet the morning, but not yet the spring.