Living the Legend

Ten degrees tonight. This is the cold of the fairy tales, the сказки; it is insistent, importunate, whenever I pass a window in or house I feel it seeking entry.

Why do people call the geni of the season “Old” Man Winter? This is a warrior, a gallant in his prime! This is not “Father Frost”, nor yet good ol’ boy “Jack”—this is a haughty and powerful nobleman. His Majesty.
Skating today, to me the wind sounded like an approaching train. I couldn’t make any headway skating into it, but when I turned around I found myself going much faster than I was prepared to go (I’m outta practice with ice skating). Still it was worth it to be on the lake in the tarnished gold of the winter sunset. Oh the deep, somehow bright, blues and greys!

Tonight a perfect half moon, looking as though it cracked apart in the cold, is directly above, while the evening star glitters like a crystal shard in the west.

I love winter. I make obeisance to you, my Lord Frost.