Springfield, Vermont (probably 1969, might be 1970)
(Ice and cold – could it be coming up on fifty years. This was a time of cold and isolation, everything symbolized by ice and snow, black and white with dirty grey everywhere in between. But there’s that one spot of color – green means go. And with time this world melted and warmed into a place quite beloved in my memory. I survived, as did this grainy, flawed slide, somehow now echoing across the decades. Ice and cold again now, inside if not always out, looking again for that spot of color and a way to hang on and get through. Spring is coming.
But for now it’s only the end of January.)