There are many images of ice and snow here, and (sigh) that is going to continue for some time to come. Each of the four seasons is beautiful in its own way and has its appointed interval, but winter in the north is the longest season, and it is the defining experience (or rather ordeal) which separates true natives and pilgrims from mere travellers and sightseers.If one can knuckle down and come to grips with deep snow, high winds and bitter cold for several months at a time, this northern white season is one whopper of an experience, and I cannot imagine my life without it, although the old bones and creaking joints are protesting very loudly this year and giving some thought to going south until May.
Rather than giving in (at least this morning), I am hauling out my snowshoes and going to the woods. This trip is a tradition of sorts, an annual pre-birthday hike into the woods at an appointed hour, with apples for the deer, suet and wild bird seed for the chickadees and nuthatches. I take food to my furred and feathered friends every time I go, but this is the weekend of our birthday feast. The best things in life are always shared.
1 comment:
dear cate...it has been a bit since i have visted but as always .....it has brought me great joy and comfort. i have been a bit consumed with my own journey and that of my loved ones both near and estranged.....but i feel serene after this visit,,,a cup of tea perhaps and a hot shower and the woodstove cranked.....connection is an amazing thing aisling
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