Winterlude

This is my aging face, 2014.

interlude |ˈintərˌloōd|noun

1/  an intervening period of time : a pause between the acts of a play.

2/  something performed during a theater intermission : an orchestral interlude.

3/  temporary amusement or source of entertainment that contrasts with what goes before or after : the romantic interlude withered rapidly once he was back in town.

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Thank you kindly Dictionary. Definition numero 3 is the perfect descriptor for the winter getaway I just experienced. Temporary amusement. While sitting alone with slippered feet and long-johned body in front of a roaring woodstove fire, Craig's phone cradled in a cup on a shelf nearby suddenly launched into Bob Dylan's Winterlude, a funny song from Dylan's 1970 album New Morning. Well. How fitting. Having never heard it before, my smile grew as the lyrics filled our home for the night. Craig, having just stepped out to smoke thoughtfully in the dark, left just Bob and me by candlelight, bobbing appreciatively to the sounds of the night. Coyotes, wind, chimney, QUIET.

We took a weekend Winterlude to test out Craig's latest Skidoo snowmobile project (he wrenched December away while I printed up a storm) and to make a much needed breakaway from our city limits. Whiskey, beer, fire cooked breakfast, yelling for each other across the landscape we both love. My kind of holiday. I snowshoed in with a loaded sleigh like a determined animal and he bombed valleys and blasted through drifts on his flying machine. Goodness how I love his big dumb grin. We were each grinning by the time Sunday rolled in, for different reasons. It's good for my sanity to stand buck naked in a snow covered valley once in a while. 

Here are Dylan's lyrics which made me smile slowly.

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Winterlude, Winterlude, oh darling
Winterlude by the road tonight
Tonight there will be no quarreling
Everything is gonna be all right
Oh I see by the angel beside me 
That love has a reason to shine
You're the one I adore come over here and give me more
Winterlude, this dude thinks you're fine.

Winterlude, Winterlude, my little apple
Winterlude by the corn in the field
Winterlude, let's go down to the chapel
Then come back and cook up a meal
Well, come out when the skating rink glistens
By the sun near the old crossroad sign
The snow is so cold but our love can be bold
Winterlude, don't be rude please be mine.

Winterlude, Winterlude, my little daisy
Winterlude by the telephone wire
Winterlude, it's making me lazy
Come one, sit by the logs in the fire
The moonlight reflects from the window
Where the snowflakes they cover the sand
Come out tonight everything will be tight
Winterlude, this dude thinks you're grand.

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January, what a swift and comical month you are. I have been working like a dog in the darkroom most evenings and weekends, trying to pull off the print production of my lifetime for the wedding I shot solo early December. Solo shooting, solo printing. While I miss the company of my partner in crime in our darkroom, I have been enjoying my solitude. It is nonstop, blaring loud Guided By Voices, pretzels aplenty and bottomless tea down there. Printing during what felt like the endless December coldsnap in an uninsulated stone basement was interesting. Seven layers of wool with slippers and sheepskin mitts on during long exposures hardly held a candle to -50. Such is life. Gotta work! My days feel rather long lately despite the sinking winter light. Darkness compliments the darkroom process. On the bright side of January, this print project is coming together beautifully (as any project tends to when working with consistency in mind). I am nearing the point where I can begin building the couple their long awaited wedding album, my favorite part. Black antique photo album, black photo corners, black and white photographs on satin paper with a slim white border. 

Time consuming and timeless, this is my work and I am proud of it.