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Winter Wander Land.

There is “nothing” in a winter landscape when it’s not masked and beautified by that frosty layer of snow. Or is there? We keep wishing and chanting for that snowy Christmas without even trying to find any charm in the nakedness of the nature. We rarely get snow here. Don’t get me wrong – you drive for an hour or two and you usually find snow but it’s not about that. It’s about the winter, excluding snow.

It’s bare, it’s raw. Sleeping and vulnerable. So quiet, on standby. Like that pause between inhalation and exhalation, that pause of deep meditation. It’s nature, taking a breath, slowly, regaining its strength to rise again.

I wanted to go out, prove to myself that there is everything in nothingness. I wanted to take that nothingness and turn it into the core of everything, the core of winter.  Forget about snow. It’s pretty, yes, we know. But there’s more to winter than snow. Just look, focus your attention on the emptiness, the decay and you shall find unforeseen beauty.

Like the fallen bundles of Magnolia leaves in the mud. Imagine them on pink.

Or the dried-up beige and brown Hydrangeas on turquoise. 

Last summer’s green turning into shades of tired green, young yellow.

Grayish-blue strands, like bloodvessels gleaming through  pale pink skin.

That odd one out that chose to bloom and whose juices are bitter with effort. 

My one side is brown and dead but the other one is safe, alive, beating.

They still cradle rays of sun from the days of burning hot summer.

They sleep to wake again.

To be the palm-trees under the Italian sun.

To swing lazily in the ocean wind.

To recite the poems of spring and summer. 

To be the hideout for bees and butterflies.

To grow, spread seeds and rest again.

To be the olive branch of life. To be peace and victory. 

Respect winter and what’s laying under the snow. Just because we don’t pay attention to something doesn’t mean it does not exist.


All pictures by Jane Kukk with an iPhone. 

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