FOUND IN: Garden Design, Nature on January 29, 2014
(A late winter callistemon flower is encased in frozen precipitation.)
It starts noisily with gusty winds and heavy rainfall. It ends in silence. This is the kind of quiet that might go unnoticed until a walk reveals missing elements. The chirping of birds, dogs barking and the hum of automobiles are gone. The marsh, usually bustling with colorful waterfowl and long winged herons, seems to eerily hold its breath. Bridges are empty at noon; no humming, no beeping, no screeching. I walk alone up the slippery incline, no angst at losing limbs. The urgency to dart from one side to the other, as I have had to do so many times, is gone. I am literally standing in the middle of a street where hundreds would race. Slowly breathing in the icy air has my mind frozen, not exactly knowing what the next step might be.
(A view over to Johns Island reveals a missing element.)
I did not come here expecting the calm. With chatter all around screaming bad weather closings, mad rushes for last minute sundries and the approaching doomsday gridlock, my mind thinks "frantic". And while today's focus from the camera was iced precipitation, in the end it was all about the frozen noise.
(Mahonia 'Summer Sun' dips in the weight of frozen rain.)
The potential for fluid motion is not possible as the temperatures continue to plummet. As if in a second, time stills, so water can gracefully extend, but then stop. These are the opportunities that come with an occurrence seldom felt. Can you hear it?