Snow in Bloom

It's a cliche about Midwesterners that we love to talk about the weather. Although, when it goes from a sunny seventy degrees to a snowstorm in the space of a few hours, I think that is genuinely interesting. So I'm going to fulfill the cliche and talk about the weather. But this isn't a tale of intemperate change; this is a tale of The Spring That Would Not Arrive, and why that non-arrival is also amazing

This year, winter in St. Louis has been unexceptional. It has been cold, but not frigid. Snowfall has been rare, but we have had more than our share of cloudy days. Gloomy is a word that comes to mind. More than a few times in the past months I have found myself wondering if Fenrir The Wolf had finally succeeded in killing the gods.

Midwest Ragnarok with Train Window (2013)

The Spring Equinox came and went in much the same manner. While we waited for daffodils to unfold their golden faces, our consternation grew. We are hardy Midwestern people, but we have been ready to plant our gardens for several weeks now. The undergraduates at my university have been yearning to run barefooted through the quad, tossing frisbees and shouting, "COLLEGE!" But just when we had reached our collective breaking points, when we could wait no more, the weather gods came back to life, and produced a "bloom" of snow ...

... Proving that even the cruelest deities have a sense of humor. I might be in the minority opinion here, but I find this springtime snowfall to be magical. (Full disclosure: I like a cold snowy winter as much as I like a balmy summer.) For a few days, at least, the seasons fight back against the homogeneous empty time of the calendar, letting their frozen freak flag fly, so to speak. Two years ago we were graced with a similar late March snowstorm. It was amazing. I tell everyone about it. It was one of my favorite days of all time.

March Snow with Crab Apple Blossoms (2011)

Snow and ice clinging to those desperate blossoms is a rare sight, one that I dream about. It was such a delight to photograph them Also, and less poetically perhaps, I built a zombie snowman. Which is just plain awesome.

Night of the Living Dead Snowman (2011)

The Story of Outerspace Future Xmas: My Happy Holiday Card To You!

Happy holidays: ALL THE HOLIDAYS!

Merry Christmas, Freaky Festivus, Happy Belated Hannukah, Happy Early Kwanza, A Very Merrily Anticipated Boxing Day, Hooray for the world not ending on December 21st, & all the rest...

So whatever you might be celebrating, please don't forget to enjoy hyperbolic aesthetic audacity, the joy of friends, family, and all the utterly weird and wonderful things that we do before returning to sober sanity in January.

That means, this is the time of year when we contemplate The Story of Outerspace Future Xmas . . .

On a frozen night late in December, a mysterious, but beautiful light was pulsating in the sky, it's colored rays reflected and refracted by ice crystals high in the atmosphere . . .

Being drawn to that spectral light, three quantum entities arrived from light-millenia away. Having no earthly bodies, they silently uttered, "Take us to your leader," in some unspeakable paradox of language . . .

And demanded to see the newly supernova'd interstellar space baby, whose existence was utterly unknown to us . . .

They bore no gift of frankincense, but instead produced a glowing boombox, powered by neutrinos and black hole dust. And when they started up an interstellar supernova birthday disco dance party, it went a little something like this . . .

 Happy Holidays, Everyone!

The New Weird is Dead, Long Live the New Weird!

An Open Letter to 2011:

What happens to a year on December 31? On January 1? Does anything ever really begin and end there?

So dear 2011, you, who I have affectionately christened "The New Weird," come to an end. My Big Lebowski calendar has been replaced by one called Magnificent Specimens, which features photographs of eccentric men's facial hair to last for the next twelve months. But what sort of ending is this anyway? While the calendar marks a certain transition, others might be harder to detect. In my mind, New Weird, you are not so much a period of time, but a state of being. You are an embracing of art, a willingness to ask the unasked questions, and a glancing sideways at the world around you. So on this new year, I wish The New Weird a happy birthday, and look forward to your second chapter. Hopefully one of many to come.

My friend Ben Trumbo has already given your second phase some marching orders. New Weird, now you have an official slogan: "2012: Freaky Awesome!" And also a motto: "Suck it up and party." Interpret these however you will. But whatever your interpretation, Happy New Year, Happy New Weird, and may we all revel in your freaky awesome weirdness!

Photo courtesy of Ben Trumbo (2011).

Click here to check out some more of his freaky awesome work.