Walking the Dog in Winter

Summary

The author reflects on the contrast between their past life's hustle and bustle and the current stillness experienced while walking a dog in winter.

Abstract

In "Walking the Dog in Winter," the author contemplates the stillness and tranquility of a winter landscape, focusing on a tree that holds the sky between its branches. The author compares this moment to their previous life filled with cities, love, and the rush of time. Despite the tree's high expectations, the author acknowledges that the night will soon arrive with a different kind of blossoming, symbolized by the slow dazzle of stars.

Opinions

The author perceives the tree as a dying, lonely thing that tries to embrace warmth and stillness.
The author believes that life used to be complicated, filled with cities, love, and the rush of time.
The author suggests that the tree has high, delicate expectations, possibly for warmth or companionship.
The author anticipates the arrival of night and the slow dazzle of stars, which they consider a different kind of blossoming.
The author implies a sense of longing for the past, as they describe the tree's embrace as a metaphor for their wishing.
The author emphasizes the contrast between the past and present, with the past being filled with late nights in bars and unfamiliar rooms, while the present is characterized by stillness and tranquility.
The author mentions their previous works, suggesting that they are an experienced writer.

Walking the Dog in Winter

A lesson in stillness

The tree holds sky between its branches — a cloud and a blue so intense it reminds me of summer — as if it’s possible for a dying lonely thing to open its arms and wrap warmth inside stillness. Of course nothing actually works like that. The cloud shakes itself free from the tree’s embrace, refuses to take part in my wishing this blustery, scattered moment into metaphor.

A year ago life flamed complicated patterns. There were cities, the rush and crush of love, late nights in bars and unfamiliar rooms, lights that blurred by or blared neon, other lights strung across melodious courtyards. Always there was the swoosh of hours— seconds— streaming between high buildings.

At the center of the field, the tree waits with its fanned branches and high, delicate expectations. I’m sure it won’t be long until night comes with a slow dazzle of stars to teach us a different kind of blossoming.

Lori Lamothe is the author of Kirlian Effect, Trace Elements and Happily.