I checked online, and it is currently -4 degrees in Ithaca tonight.
I just returned from photographing. Walking with my camera, my feet were numb, and my cheeks hurt. The joints on my tripod were stiff and hard to move, and if I touched the tripod with my bare hands the metal was so cold it burned.
Strangely, I found a wonderful kind of freedom. The snow muted all sounds. The air was still, with no real wind. The light was warm and glittered on the new snow.
What’s that famous line by William Carlos Williams? Ideas only in things. It was one of those nights when the world seemed a little more real, and it felt wonderful to be apart of it.
Though I can also add, that despite this feeling of serenity, these pictures were hard won; it was fucking cold.