I'm inside on this Sunday morning listening to the rain, which it seems has begun for the winter. I'm surprised to find myself wishing it was snow. It's funny how when you live in the Northeast you dread the gray winters, annoyed by the layers you must wear to walk around the block, scraping car windshields, mopping slush off the kitchen floor, and the dark setting in at four during the cold afternoons.
Yet, you sit years later in California, surprised at just how much you miss the cozy warmth in New England homes, the beauty of that first snowfall, icy shorelines, and sleeping forests. That sense of aliveness when you catch your cloudy breath in the air, and the loveliness of a town when the world outside wide windows.... is white. Again, the season is about to shift from Autumn to Winter, and the transition of being on the edge of a season is an energetic, beautiful time.
And if you look closely the beauty of each single snowflake it one of the most delicate and ethereal pieces of art nature makes, intricately detailed and fragile...
just like us.
This beautifully soulful cover of Feist's "Limit to your love" by James Blake is chilling, leaving me at the edge of one beat and craving the next, with second too long spaces between each verse, drawing out the song with seductive perfection. His voice and emotion come through flawlessly... tense, real, intimate and raw. Enjoy and have a wonderful Sunday. :)
"There's a limit to your love
Like a waterfall in slow motion
Like a map with no ocean
There's a limit to your love..."