There’s a graveyard of rotting machinery in the woods behind my house: forgotten tractors, decrepit digging equipment, and the skeletons of ancient cars, half-sunken in the earth. I go there, after the storm, to watch them decay a little more — bit by bit, paint chip by paint chip, molecule by molecule. Every year, they crumble a touch more, sink an finger deeper.
It’s always fascinated me — this place in winter: the rich, earthy brown of mechanical husks against the pure white of snow. These contraptions of human design that, once upon a time, sputtered and roared with unnatural noise, that lurched about by the power of combustion engines — now dead and purposeless. Together here with the stillness of a fresh snow — more silent than silence.
diary blog blogary dialog …bliary? I give up.
I pulled an all-nighter last night to finish a project, then I dragged myself around campus for about ten hours between classes and club stuff. Is it possible for me to get away with only posting a couple pretty pictures tonight and leaving the words for later? I can’t seem to find many words right now. Where did I leave them? Could they be hiding in my bed?
Will definitely have to check there. Could take a while…
Where I live, we’ve just had our second good snowfall. It’s getting pretty darn cold, too. It may not technically be winter yet, but it’s good enough for me.
I’m a big fan of winter, for the record. It’s my second favorite season, right after autumn. But for everyone who gets down in the dumps around this time of year, with all its grey, cloudy, slushy dreariness, I thought I’d try to brighten things up, even if it’s just for a minute of your day.
So here are some way tacky close-ups of flowers that I took two summers ago. I figure it might be nice to see something vibrant and alive as we all (in the northern hemisphere, at least) plunge into the gloomy winter months.