Capturing the world with Photography, Painting and Drawing

Winter Study

The Day The Snow Finally Came By: Kathleen E. Sorensen

The Day the Snow came
Irish landscape Photography
Nigel Borrington

The Day The Snow Finally Came

© Kathleen E. Sorensen

Published: March 13, 2017

“It’s the middle of winter,” they would say,
But I just stared in dismay.
“How could it be winter without a blanket of snow?”
They said, “We do not know.”

I waited hours, I waited weeks,
Yet you could still see those mountain peaks.
“The snow will not come this year,” I thought.
Not a single dot.

I wanted to build a beast of a snowman this year
And sled down those snow hills with no fear.
Ski around the maze of trails with ease,
Seeing all the lovable white trees.

Then one day I saw something fall,
And it was so very small.
There were millions of them coming.
Oh, it was stunning!

The sun made the snow sparkle like glitter.
It was a real homerun hitter!
Today the snow will fall all day,
Leaving a path of fun on its way.

I immediately had chills run up my spine.
This is my heart’s sunshine.
I love the snow so very much,
And I ran outside to hear it crunch.


Irish Landscape, Black and white Photography – Out of the Fog,


Irish Landscape Photography, The Freedom of the Hills, a Poem By: Douglas Fraser – 1968

Freedom of the Hills
Irish Landscape Photography
Nigel Borrington

Freedom of the Hills

By: Douglas Fraser – 1968

Mine is the freedom of the tranquil hills
When vagrant breezes bend the sinewy grass,
While sunshine on the widespread landscape spills
And light as down the fleet cloud-shadowed pass.

Mine, still, that freedom when the storm-clouds race,
Cracking their whips against defiant crags
And mists swirl boiling up from inky space
To vanish on the instant, torn to rags.

When winter grips the mountains in a vice,
Silently stifling with its pall of snow,
Checking the streams, draping the rocks in ice,
Still to their mantled summits I would go.

Sun-drenched, I sense the message they impart;
Storm-lashed, I hear it sing through every vein;
Among the snows it whispers to my heart
“Here is your freedom. Taste – and come again.”


December on the Farm, A photo-story …..