I’m starting the first side of a painted screen. The screen is going to have a winter scene on one side and a summer scene on the other. It may seem contradictory, but the winter side is starting with the red-hot toned canvas.
Most Vermonters seem to have an aversion to the extremes of the summer heat (mind you, in Vermont, extreme heat starts with temps in the high 80s). No matter how hot it gets, however, there is an unwritten rule that we won’t complain about the heat. It’s a silent acknowledgment that we will all be shoveling snow in a few months for a lot more months.
Shoveling aside, winter is the time of year when I feel most alive, a realization that crystallized over the last few years when Thing1’s illness had us traveling the snowy roads through the mountains to the hospital every week. The drives were sometimes treacherous but always stunningly beautiful whether there was a foot of fresh powder everywhere or a muddy landscape filled with stark purples and greys. Summer can be beautiful, but it also lulls. Winter makes magic, it demands to be navigated and noticed. It is fraught nerves and cool pink fire in a sky filled with purple powdered clouds.
And underneath the ice and white paint, it’s red hot.