There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are –
None may teach it – Any –
‘Tis the Seal Despair –
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air –
When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –
Emily Dickinson, no. 258
Humptulips County is heavily draped in winter. It is as if we are trapped in the very late stages of pregnancy: the time when everything feels bloated, when every move is ponderous and must be carefully contemplated and planned, when promises lie always beyond the reach of our abilities. Heaviness pervades each day, dripping from the low hanging cloud cover stretching uninterrupted from horizon to horizon; dripping from tree limbs, from utility lines, from fence rails and fence posts, from each bush and shrub, from each boulder, rock and pebble. Heaviness is king; moisture its court jester.
No living thing moves easily through this landscape. Instead, each pushes through, using effort and willpower both as engine and as motivation.
Winter’s heaviness is a paradox: both moist and readily apparent on the one hand, and invisible and nearly indescribable on the other. It is a state of being or a state of mind; it is an essential condition of the season or a side effect of too many clouds hanging too close to the earth; it is an emotional response to our constant consideration of the length of time remaining until spring or it is a psychological reaction to lowered light levels; it is a quietness derived from the reduced population of the season or it is the acoustics of a more cloistered aspect. It is the essence of the season; it is the mood of the season. Or, it is all of these things and more.
Whatever it is, whatever its source, heaviness permeates each winter’s day. Because snow flakes drift casually through the winter’s heaviness with only modest regard for the laws of gravity, only a fresh fall of snow can alleviate its oppression. But there is no snow in our forecast. Our forecast calls only for more of the same well-moistened days that brought us to this condition in the first place.
