It has been very cold here in the West. Not cold like Minnesota or upstate New York, but a little on the dry and bitter side for us. This inspired me to get started on Winer even though we are still officially in Autumn. Enjoy!<\/p>\n
There is more information on the Creative Prompt Page<\/a>.<\/p>\n Winter Wonderland.<\/p>\n Snow<\/p>\n Ice skating<\/p>\n Winter Solstice<\/p>\n Skiing (Schifahren)<\/p>\n Cross Country Skiing<\/p>\n Winter Olympics<\/p>\n S.A.D.<\/p>\n Winter definition: Meteorological winter<\/em> is the season having the shortest days and the lowest average temperatures, which have the coldest weather. (from Wikipedia<\/a>)<\/p>\n Snow boots, mittens, hats, parkas, snow shoes, long underwear, Smartwool socks<\/p>\n Ice scrapers<\/p>\n Isicles<\/p>\n ice storm<\/p>\n Weather safety and awareness<\/p>\n Winter poems<\/a><\/p>\n Winter in the Country by Claude McKay<\/a><\/strong> Bare hands to touch, the sparrow’s cheep Music that every heart could bless, But oh! to leave this paradise In corner set, two crippled chairs Will welcome me . . . And yet, and yet A Winter Eden by Robert Frost<\/a> It lifts existence on a plane of snow It lifts a gaunt luxuriating beast So near to paradise all pairing ends: A feather-hammer gives a double knock. See the Creative Prompt page<\/a> if you have questions about this project.<\/p>\n Post the direct URL where your drawing, doodle, artwork is posted (e.g. your blog, Flickr) in the comments area of this post. It will keep all the artwork together.<\/p>\n The Creative Prompt Project, also, now, has a Flickr group<\/a>, which you can join and where you can post your responses.<\/p>\n <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" It has been very cold here in the West. Not cold like Minnesota or upstate New York, but a little on the dry and bitter side for us. This inspired me to get started on Winer even though we are still officially in Autumn. Enjoy! There is more information on the Creative Prompt Page. Winter … Continue reading “Creative Prompt #44: Winter”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[389],"tags":[79,311,72],"class_list":["post-3653","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-389","tag-creative-prompt","tag-creativity","tag-group-project"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/artquiltmaker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3653","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/artquiltmaker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/artquiltmaker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artquiltmaker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artquiltmaker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3653"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/artquiltmaker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3653\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/artquiltmaker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3653"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artquiltmaker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3653"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artquiltmaker.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3653"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nSweet life! how lovely to be here
\nAnd feel the soft sea-laden breeze
\nStrike my flushed face, the spruce’s fair
\nFree limbs to see, the lesser trees’<\/p>\n
\nTo heed, and watch his nimble flight
\nAbove the short brown grass asleep.
\nLove glorious in his friendly might,<\/p>\n
\nAnd thoughts of life serene, divine,
\nBeyond my power to express,
\nCrowd round this lifted heart of mine!<\/p>\n
\nFor the city’s dirty basement room,
\nWhere, beauty hidden from the eyes,
\nA table, bed, bureau, and broom<\/p>\n
\nAll covered up with dust and grim
\nWith hideousness and scars of years,
\nAnd gaslight burning weird and dim,<\/p>\n
\nThis very wind, the winter birds
\nThe glory of the soft sunset,
\nCome there to me in words.<\/p>\n
\nA winter garden in an alder swamp,
\nWhere conies now come out to sun and romp,
\nAs near a paradise as it can be
\nAnd not melt snow or start a dormant tree.<\/p>\n
\nOne level higher than the earth below,
\nOne level nearer heaven overhead,
\nAnd last year’s berries shining scarlet red.<\/p>\n
\nWhere he can stretch and hold his highest feat
\nOn some wild apple tree’s young tender bark,
\nWhat well may prove the year’s high girdle mark.<\/p>\n
\nHere loveless birds now flock as winter friends,
\nContent with bud-inspecting. They presume
\nTo say which buds are leaf and which are bloom.<\/p>\n
\nThis Eden day is done at two o’clock.
\nAn hour of winter day might seem too short
\nTo make it worth life’s while to wake and sport.<\/p>\n