That neglect meant it was with great excitement that I watched the snow build up to a disappointing half inch a few nights ago.
It's an odd phenomenon that takes place in the winter time. I'm content to sit inside and work while the weather is nice, but as soon as the temperature drops down into the teens, I loose that ability to sit still. I find that I am not truly happy again until my ears are stinging, my face is numb.
I can't return until I have breathed in the crisp air, heard the cool silence, and felt my heart beat heavy and hot in my chest.
It is that feeling I try to capture in my photos, and I usually find that I have failed miserably when I return to the warmth of my keyboard.
Beautiful snow covered valleys are flattened, bone-chilling cold becomes room temperature, and the thrill of my previously beating heart has served only to remind me how much I despise camera shake.
Having failed to realize that pure goal I sought, I have no choice but to return again and again to that beautiful world.
Do I feel like going out in the cold somehow proves my fortitude? Or do I just love the magic of a world transformed through the cold kiss of winter? It's hard to tell, I guess I'll let you know when I figure it out myself.
That being said, I have returned from the cold once again. Not with perfection, but with another building block, to help stretch towards that impossible goal.
It came and hung out with me for a few minutes.