February Snow: the Beginning

As I listens to Faunts' M4 (Part I), sleets are powdering the car park outside my window again. The tiny flakes danced with ever changing paces and directions under the lonely street lamp, like thousands of restless fireflies or falling stars in the milky way as seen on a giddy roller coaster ride. The dreamy music and the unpredictable flakes make familiar sights feel so surreal and alien. This can be most fascinating and meditative. I can watch the unpredictable movements of the white dots in the dark for hours without end.

I do not know what scene will greet me when the sun rises, but tonight, it is apt to reflect on the first day (and night) of such a snowfall in Bristol as it has not been for at least two decades. It was the 4th of February, when the unexpected happened and this was how the car park looked after a day of snowfall.

Walking to uni in a snow storm was quite an experience. It made you wish you were wearing goggles especially when the wind was greeting you face on.

Lots of dogs were out enjoying themselves, yet none of them looked so right compared to a husky in the snow. What a joy to see this wolf-look-alike indeed!

A blanket of white can really changes your perspective of seeing things you see everyday. In hindsight, perhaps experiencing snow in Bristol is far better than to seek snow in any other places. Here, I've seen it through the different seasons and I can make the comparison. The snow added depth, a side and a face of a place you never know.

What interests me a lot after the snow is how the frozen moisture clung to different kinds of foliage. A needle-like leaf, a blade of grass, pebbles on the road, these are the very things that I have always overlooked. But that which concealed them do verily magnified them to me at the same time.

The ice remained in the shadowy side, still unscathed by the sun of a clear morning the following day.

The resilient grass, lowly yet ever green in Bristol, even in the heart of winter, poked their spiny heads and reached for the sky.

A fallen leaf rested tranquilly on the snow, disturbed only by water droplets from the melting ice on branches above.

The snow does much to accentuate the weathered and battered looks of these ancient stones. One can wonder how many winters had the castle saw and how many generations, cycles and seasons had these walls stood.

But unlike the stones laid so many years ago, snow comes and snow goes. It is powerful. It transforms all that it touches, both physically and otherwise. Besides coloring things white, it can change the mood completely. Yet it is only so brief. A few days' sun, a few nights' rain, and it will be gone without a trace.

The grace that washes us clean as snow is wonderfully not so brief. I have seen more snow than these, yet remembered less. But perhaps the brevity of its existence, before its ascension once more is just a common fact of life. It is just the obvious, that we are often oblivious with, given a form that we can't deny. And if one is wise, one will heed the reminder of a phenomena that graces Bristol seldom.

Snow Blight and the Severn Dwarves

The coldest snap for 20 years shows no sign of letting up, with the freezing weather expected to last all weekend and into next week. (BBC's website)

Yesterday we were suppose to be flying off to Prague, but due to the weather, many flights were canceled and airports closed. In the end, we decided to cancel the trip altogether and perhaps go to Central Europe when the Earth tilts the other way a little more. After all, the choice is really between these, we can stay in Bristol and witness a small history, or we can fly, but well, there is always another winter there.

One of the main reason we want to go to Prague is to see snow. And now, it looks like Ms White is a little too enthusiastic in running our direction and locking us in her frosty embrace. While snow is really lovely, like the romantic storybook winter in many people's imagination, I've about have more than my fill with the disruption she brings.

Anyway, to make ourselves feel better because of canceling the trip, we decided to visit Brandon Hill to make the most of what the temperamental weather brings. On the way towards the hill, we saw a red fox killing a bird (or a pigeon). I've not yet seen a red fox in the wild, much less one in the middle of a successful hunt and so close to the city center. I'll count this as blessing number 1 for not being able to fly.

As we arrived at the hills a little late, many of the slops were quite dirty with 'runway tracks' and slushy mud. Youngsters in drench and filthy coats along with wet brownish dogs were common sights.

We made a small snowman with the remaining clean snow higher up the garden and named him (or her) Jason. Speaking of snowman, this snow Man is one of the most impressive ones that I've seen so far. Blessing number 2.

Poor snow man, feels so lonely sitting on the bench alone.

Each of us took our turn to sit beside it to cheer him up. But he is a cold dude. Nothing about him is warm at all.

As the sun inches closer to the horizon, we left Mr Cool to enjoy his solitude on a bench in the woods.

Blessing number 3 came with the sunset. It was an absolute joy to see the blue sky and sun again! I've never realized how well snow goes together with sunset. The golden sun bath all things westward in its warm hue, accentuating the long bluish shadows on a white carpet.

Here is me and an ex-classmate.

And our friends from Hong Kong.

How could I forget how beautiful winter sunsets can be with the brilliant interplay between cool and warm colors!

Bristol looks so foreign again under the white spell and that can help reawaken my eyes to see this place afresh.

Prague, Vienna and Budapest, I look forward to visiting these places when all things are more favorable.

February Snow: Ashton

Today, the university was closed due to adverse weather. This was something that has not happened for the past 15 years, or so I was told by a tutor I met out enjoying the snow with his son.

While I'm not too sure if the situation is really 'adverse' or 'dangerous' as they put it in many institution's website, I'm definitely certain that the mood is festive, in every sense of the word, at least in the Ashton Court.

I have not seen so many people, families with children and pet dogs dotting the hills since the Balloon Festival. The street leading up from the Kennel Lodge Road up into the park is full of vehicles. Even around 4pm when the sun was getting lower and the air chiller, cars with enthusiastic children with their toboggans and sledges are still arriving.

Indeed, the thronging crowds must be a testimony to the rarity of such generous snowfall in Bristol. It is almost as if it is Christmas again, with everyone in the jolly mood for fun. The colorful jacket worn by the children look especially vivid in the white landscape.

Fences and bars will not impede visitors who will stop at nothing to take advantage of the white abundance. Even whole family will clamber over tall metal fences over the padlock on the entrance to the deer park just to reach the normally emerald hills. It was not a normal sight to see mothers encouraging their children to 'tresspass'. They must be really desperate for it!

Personally, the greatest gift for trekking all the way to the hill is to remember once more the magic of the winter sky. There is a subtle but very rich palette even in a dull gray sky.

Photos can hardly do justice to it. But standing there, at that very brief moment, with the sun poised near the horizon yet veiled with thick winter clouds, there is a wonderful tint of yellow and pink that I really like.

Now if the Good Lord will grant us a favorable weather to travel tomorrow. Who knows if one day I will live to see snow on the Sahara.

The Christmas Seasons

Winter is a time of golden sunlight, long shadows and richly coloured sky.

Thanks to the guff stream, UK isn't as cold as it could have been compare to other countries on the same latitude and snow is an even rarer sight in Bristol. From what I've heard from locals, the last white Christmas was around 15 years ago.

However, on a cold morning you might still get a chance to see a blanket of crispy white frost wherever the rays of dawning light has yet to reach.

So far, most of these silver dusted mornings I've experience are when I'm on my way to church on Sunday mornings.

I do very much enjoy the journey from Temple Meads to Filton Abbey Wood station and the walk from there to the community center as each week I trot the familiar path, I can observe the changing season.

As the festive season draws near, decorations are put up. Here you have a comparison of natural Christmas berries and artificial ones.

In this season of feasting, goodwill, light and Emanuel, I was fortunate enough to be given the privilege to share in a few wonderful family's Christmas celebration. The first visit prior to Christmas was to Mary's House with other international students. Revisiting Sea Mills was fun.

And how can you visit Sea Mills without seeing felines?

When night falls, some of the houses really shone with their decorations. This wasn't the most extravagant one I've seen yet. But alas, most of the more elaborate ones I've only seen when passing in vehicles.

On Christmas Eve, I enjoyed the services in the Bristol Cathedral. Both the Nine Lessons and the midnight service was quite an experience. This was my first candle lit Anglican service.

We had our own little decorations in the flat while having a dinner with some friends.

My Christmas day was spent with Saddie's family. These wonderful folks really made me feel at home. The atmosphere does reminded me of Chinese New Year celebrations, where there are decorations, reunions and gatherings of family members, plenty of delicious snacks and sumptuous feasts.

For Boxing Day evening, it was spent with my Hungarian friend's family. It was another very warm and delightful night, despite the temperature plummeting quite a bit from Christmas night itself. This might very well be due to the consistent sunshine from the 25th's morning till even now.

The season has been a hectic, eventful and enjoyable one in every sense of the word.

There are many arguments about if Christmas should be celebrated, but from this experience alone. I'd say it is worth it. There are the ecclesiastical significance, the folk traditions, the consumerism etc, but above all, I think it is a season and time to be reminded that there is something more out there - a window to what can't be seen.

The Man in the Baseball Cap

One of the highlight of coming to Bristol is undoubtedly meeting the man in the baseball cap.

Beyond and above the fact that he is quite a demigod in this arena, one who inherit so much directly from the Nine and bridges the gap to the new generation, there is something special about him.

I think he is hungry.

He is still hungry after more than 60 years and even now desires to keep his edge keen.
He truly loves what he does. For to desire 'to go into seclusion so that he can continue perusing his love' speaks much of this.

He seems to me to have a deep respect and liking for Katsushika Hokusai. And indeed, he much embodies that spirit.

At seventy-three I learned a little about the real structure of animals, plants, birds, fishes and insects. Consequently when I am eighty I'll have made more progress. At ninety I'll have penetrated the mystery of things. At a hundred I shall have reached something marvelous, but when I am a hundred and ten everything I do, the smallest dot, will be alive.

the road goes ever on...

Since the age of six I have had the habit of sketching forms of objects. Although from about fifty I have often published my pictorial works, before the seventieth year none is worthy.

to realize 'your worth', perhaps it is those who have seen the Earth like a sparkling sapphire pea who knows the worth of Everest.

How would I describe a successful artist? Nay, an artist at all?

If Heaven had only granted me five more years, I could have become a real painter.

That is what it is about, to be a true artist.

If I may ask,

for a heart that never satisfied and also never give up,
that I will love my first love more than I ever does in the last days of my life,
that I will still itch to conjure, so long as there is strength left in my hands,
and for the Undying Will.

I heartily wish the man in the baseball cap to find what he seeks and enjoy his years to come, doing what he is pleased with. May he live till a hundred and ten and five years more still, for I would certainly look forward to see more of his magics and wizardry yet.

What a privilege to meet you, in that humble yet all-too-important place.

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