Getting done with winter

Although the local groundhog suggests only six more weeks of winter and a recent warming spell brought some needed relief. This week winter wanted to remind us that it is not through with just yet. We are on the cusp of setting a new record for snowfall in a year and I suppose if you're going to have a lot of snow you might as well go for the record. I believe the record was set circa 11,378 BC with about 6,023 feet of snow that year. We're about three inches short of that right now, but should top it by Sunday.

Living in Erie has its moments, and some of those moments you just get tired of. I suppose that is true of anywhere that one might live, but after living here for so long sometimes it takes on the characteristics of theater of the absurd. How else do you explain ice fishing? Hey! Let's take a really mind numbing activity and do it out in the cold. When I see those guys out there on the bay with the wind scouring the ice, in their little yurts trying to coax fish out of their lethargy I gotta say I'm baffled. And when some of these guys get stranded on a breakaway ice flow, which happens annually here in the Great Lakes, I must confess that I hope none of them have reproduced.

(In a totally unrelated thought, I just want to say I hope things are going well for you in NYC Mr. Fournier. thanks for stopping by.)

Winter does have its inspiring moments, don't get me wrong and I'd rather freeze my ass off than sweat it off. Moved by the muse of the season, here are four recent paintings from the 100 Views series...

This painting is from the peninsula. On a walk along the beach just short of the light house, I rounded a corner and the light and the sky towering over this empty shallow stretch of ground just reminded me of a Dutch landscape so here is my little homage to Ruisdael.

This also came from the peninsula. On a walk along the bay side I spooked a hawk out of the brush. Apparantly I had interrupted a meal. When I went over to take a look there was this explosion of blood and feathers on the white of the snow. A cardinal had the misfortune of being red.

I don't remember where this was, but I remember really liking the feel of the icecicles just massed on top of each other and draping down the surface . In Erie this could be anywhere.

This last one is from one of the stands of birches on the peninsula. Birches in winter. They are magic. Every time I walk this trail I feel like Robert Frost is looking over my shoulder. Time to go.