The New England winter is finally here. For a few months, I was beginning to doubt that it would ever arrive, as we passed a bleak, rainy Christmas and a grey, drab January here in Boston. But at last, things have started looking up. A series of snowstorms have left their unmistakable mark on the city sidewalks, and the temperatures have stayed below freezing for the entirety of the past week. The banks of the Muddy River are lined with frost, and the Charles has frozen over. Our showshoes in tow, Jane and I have gone out to find wonderful new places to explore. I, as usual, have been in search of the challenge that was so elusive in Baltimore: genuine, salt-of-the-earth winter photography. Snow and ice have the magical effect of reducing the landscape to its simplest and most beautiful elements: crisp patterns and leading lines, sharp contrasts between areas light and dark, and bursts of colour amidst fields of white. It also forces the photographer to think fast and to work quickly; one’s lithium-ion batteries and fingertips will not last forever in the harsh cold. In short, winter is a test. A treat. An invigoration. And it is all the lovelier for having been anticipated for so long.
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February 6, 2021: A morning walk around Moore State Park, in Paxton just northwest of Worcester. Lindsey first introduced me to this place in October, and it is gratifying to return to see the rhododendron-lined paths cloaked in snow, Eames Pond frozen over (and hosting an impromptu ice hockey game), and the nearby stone-fenced hill transferred into a towering expanse of white. We walk to the nearby sawmill, where I work on long exposures of the falls, before walking back to our car through the forest. It’s a long, stop-and-go drive home along Rt. 9 (note for next time: just take the Pike!).
February 7, 2021: A casual Sunday workday at home turns into a snow date in our courtyard, when the sky opens up and begins to dump on us in the afternoon. Jane helps me make my first snowman, whom we name Dr. Pepper (for the long green implement pulled straight from the Chinese supermarket to our fridge to his face). A few minutes into his existence, I get a little too handsy with Dr. Pepper, and he is ruined, gone from us all too soon.
February 13, 2021: An early morning trip up north to Groton, where we climb Gibbet Hill with our snowshoes and poles. Traipsing around the ruins of Bancroft Castle as sunrise lights upon the village and its steepled church, we take some lovely portraits at the top of the hill. A gem of a location; we’ll certainly be coming back next fall. After returning to the car, we drive a few miles down the road to the Groton Town Forest, where we take a short walk along the Nashua River before heading home.
