These two images sum up the seasonal mood in the Lanark Highlands better than I could ever do it in words. At this turning of the seasons, the beaver pond is quiet, and ice has begun to form along its margins. The trees are bare now. There are no great herons, wood ducks or mergansers, no turtles sunning themselves on floating logs or bull frogs peering at me from the murk with their bulbous eyes.I haven't seen Friedrich (our black bear) near the pond this week, and he has probably already waddled off to his den in the rocks to sleep away the winter - his abode in the time of snow is a warm deep cave filled with dry oak leaves, and it is certainly chilly enough here to turn his thoughts toward sleep.
In October, the pond is cold, still and serene, and my companions there are (usually), beaver, the resident fisher, solitary deer who come down to drink on the soggy shore, an occasional goose or three, owls or chickadees. In winter, sometimes there are coyotes or timber wolves here at sunset.
The idea of hibernation is very appealing, but there is still much pickling, jamming and preserving to do, and for now, I shall have to settle for afternoon naps and mugs of tea.
2 comments:
Beaver Pond sounds an idyllic place and the photographs are beautiful, so tranquil looking. I envy you having a bear 'friend', I've only seen them in the wild once when I was in the Carpathian Mountains in Roumania - they are magnificent animals. I heard, though didn't see, wolves while I was there too. Another wild companion that I envy you - the wolf is the wild creature I love and admire more than any other.
I so love your writing style, Kerrdelune... your clear word choice and sparcity (opp of verbosity like me) -- the way you write with few adjectives: just simple, plain, beautiful. You paint a vivid picture without a lot of filler. Your words allow my imagination to fill in the painting for myself ...
You write,"At this turning of the seasons, the beaver pond is quiet, and ice has begun to form along its margins."
ahhh, the pond, the quiet, the ice ... these simple phrases themselves form a transition -- a margin -- between fall and winter. You lead me through time in that one short sentence. Then,
"The trees are bare now."
I am right there with you. And,
"There are no great herons, wood ducks or mergansers, no turtles sunning themselves on floating logs or bull frogs peering at me from the murk with their bulbous eyes."
I love that you are describing the feeling of falling asleep, of hibernating, by saying what is not there ... Now, just when autumn is turning to the dark wnter, you have given me a dream of spring and summer, maybe what those sleeping pond residents are dreaming of as well.
You use just enough and just the right words to evoke the oncoming sleep, dreams, dark, hiding. I am in awe.
Besides all that, your photos are exquisite. The perfect accompaniment to your words. I'm so glad I came and saw your recent posts today!
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