Clear Blue and Waning

After the cold and the wind of Friday and Saturday, it was something of a surprise to arrive on the hill in Lanark yesterday and discover blue skies and rapidly disappearing snows. We had been prepared for colder weather and grey skies and were suitably togged out for the occasion, resembling nothing so much as a pair of huge, padded, colourful and very determined yeti.

The deer had already consumed most of the grain and apples at their feeding stations, and the bird feeders were emptied - we were met right at the car door by a flock of chickadees chirping their pleasure in seeing us and their joyous anticipation of full feeders along the trail. Beneath a thin blanket of patterned ice, all the streams were running freely again. Downed trees, frostbitten ferns and clumps of brome were emerging from the fading lacy snows, and it felt like springtime.

What does one actually say about such quiet days? The sky poured brilliant blue over the landscape and disappearing snowdrifts, and the snows offered their own crystalline blues and sparkling shadows to the sky in an act of carefree and unfettered reciprocity. The weather was perfect for rambling in the woods, the day was peaceful and without incident, and our several hours wandering among the trees were deeply and exquisitely satisfying. I was happy wandering, listening to the birds, watching shadows and light move across the landscape and small things emerging from the snow.

As I closed the gate late in the afternoon, a magnificent mature Bald Eagle flew right over my head, and seeing that glorious bird was better than finding gold in the snow. I do wish that it had paused long enough to be photographed.

The usual Monday haiku sequence (except for those weeks when the muse does not visit) is here.