Winter is a time of black and white. Winter is about light and texture, not color. There is no color to capture anyway, the greens and blues are gone, taken by the weather until the return of spring.
Spring is the start of color, when I begin to load color film in my camera again. When I have hope for the coming season, the coming hikes and rides, the coming adventures. Spring is still a ways off.
This has been a black and white sort of year. No real color to speak of, no adventures. Just light and texture and time spent waiting. But spring is almost here.
There’s been an odd stirring in my heart lately. Something I haven’t allowed myself to think of in a long while. Hope for change.
I ignored it for as long as I could, but I think it’s real. I feel like a corner has been turned and just ahead, we can go back to having fun and living a more normal life again. It’s close. I can almost taste it.
I can’t wait to leave the short hikes around safer spaces I’ve been doing. I can’t wait to venture abroad. I don’t think the European trip will happen this year, but you never know. There’s a new train to ride, and new trail to explore. I’m even looking forward to getting back in shape.
Not really, but hell, anything requiring movement strikes my fancy now.
I can almost see where we need to be. Damn near.
And suddenly, I’m full of optimism. Spring will come, after all