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FOUR SEASONS: WINTER

by Kenji
Click on the green links. Kwaidan to set the scene… brrrr, water frozen up, icicles hanging outside, birds needing feeding, puffs of breath in the air… and a warm fire: Winter Sleep - In the Bleak Midwinter In the bleak midwinter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, Long ago. (Christina Rossetti) Haiku Red maple now bare. Here lies, beneath, poor bunny. But soon, the snowdrops. (Kenji) Hiroshige “A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark,… Read more

Click on the green links.

Kwaidan to set the scene…

brrrr, water frozen up, icicles hanging outside, birds needing feeding, puffs of breath in the air…

and a warm fire:

Winter Sleep

-

In the Bleak Midwinter
In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter,
Long ago.
(Christina Rossetti)

Haiku
Red maple now bare.
Here lies, beneath, poor bunny.
But soon, the snowdrops.
(Kenji)

Hiroshige

“A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.”
(James Joyce, The Dead)

~~

Shakespeare: Winter
When all aloud the wind doe blow,
And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian’s nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-whit! To-who!—a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp’d, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-whit! To-who!—a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

(crabs = crab apples)

~

ST. AGNES’ Eve—Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp’d trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold

(John Keats)


The weather conditions in Shackleton’s Antarctic expedition in the film South were more than wintry enough, and i’m including the Arctic snow too, irrespective of season. Some films here cover various seasons but with memorable winter sections, e.g Mirror (scenes reminiscent of the Bruegel painting above)

Not on Mubi:
Railroaders (Coté)

My Winnipeg

See also Graveyard Poet’s list Greatest Winter Films

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