Th twilight of December
Perhaps it’s because the color has fallen from the trees. Frosts come in waves now and extinguish the grass. Flowers are a memory. Foliage camouflages ugly things. Ruts in the earth, erosion, ancient dumps of rusted cans – most of them man-made. Winter undresses the gridded monotony of suburbia and the sagging charms of dying rural yards cluttered with the refuse of what was supposed to make life better. Perhaps the need to hang Christmas lights in the trees addresses the death of color; it tides us over to the first of the year when we begin the countdown to spring. Whatever the reason, the twilights of December are particularly vivid to my eye. More purples, more magentas. Even the cloudless ones have a brilliant candlepower to sharpen the blue-black horizon silhouetted against it. The stark branches of December, after all those months of cover, make an a appropriate foreground to the twilight skies. I call this photograph Twilight of December. I chased this sunset down until I found a place where the sky was arranged in trees. And it was a chase. Twilight fades to black in no time in December.