In Which Time Itself Slumbers Beneath the Snow

As I was driving in to work on Thursday morning, the clouds were clearing out, following upon the heels of Wednesday's storm. The sky was very dramatic, with swirling clouds making cool patterns in the sky. I knew I had to stop for some pictures.

So I went to the closest cool place, which is to say the Arboretum. This is a shot I've taken many times in the early morning: sunrise over the sundial/solar clock. Somehow none of those pictures have made it to Blip yet. But I've never seen it with the clouds as dramatic as they were on this day, so I'm finally posting a shot.

Frequent visitors to my photo blog know this about me: I tend to wax philosophical about sunrises. I can't help myself, apparently. And on this day, with a bonus sundial thrown in to accompany my sunrise, I had two semi-profound reflections:

1) I wondered what it meant in the grand scheme of the Universe to be standing in the shadow of sweet time gazing into the rising sun.

2) With snow covering the stones used to tell the time, even time itself appeared to be sleeping beneath the snow.

I was also reminded of a quote by Samuel Taylor Coleridge:

And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!

The song: one of my very favorite songs ever, from my second-favorite album by REO Speedwagon (the first has to be Hi Infidelity, of course, which is the one that made me a fan of the band; but the second is Good Trouble, which is awesome in its own right). The song is REO Speedwagon, Sweet Time.

P.S. The Arboretum is beautiful any time of year, but here are a few more summery shots of the gardens that include this sundial/solar clock:

The strolling garden in August.

Heaven beneath our feet.

Summer gardens.