A Forgiveness of Snow

Backyard magic

January seems to have finally arrived with a nice bit of snow and a wintry mix of ice, sleet, rain, and whatever else Mother Nature contrives to throw at us. I love the snow. I love how it blankets and slithers through the landscape, covering any number of gardening sins or neglect. A bench left out becomes a piece of garden architecture. Trees become magical scaffolds limned in white. And you can't see all the pesky weeds.

Snow also insulates the soil and gives a low slow seep of moisture when we thaw. My snowdrops are safely tucked away for now. For this northerner, it isn't winter without a canvas of the white stuff. It magnifies the shifting colors of the evergreens. The sun patterns it with etchings of branch shadows. Tracks of rabbits become secret paths as foxes stalk their routes.

I even enjoy shoveling it. Pushing piles of buttercream around as the cardinal couple gossips in the hedges on a quiet frosty morning is my favorite form of cardio. What kind of weather magic do you love?

Pondering Connections on a Cold Winter's Night

Sage in winter - sharp, but flavorful.

We had our first real snowfall last night, so winter is officially here. It's hovering in the teens, so curling up with a cat is particularly appealing. Winter, for me, is often a time of contemplation. The hustle and bustle of growing things has paused, leaving the furred and feathered to the rough struggle of survival. On a cold frosty night, the world seems to hold its breath and snow brings an expectant silence.

I've been thinking about connections, particularly to places. I have, and I'm sure you do too, special places that sing to my soul. The house we live in is a kindred spirit filled with quirks and charm. My little patch of land may not be the tidiest, but it is mine and it has thoroughly claimed me.

In general, I seem to connect best to places with trees. Forests speak to me, calm my fears, elevate my thoughts. I can think bigger walking amid trees. Maybe because they are constantly looking up, spreading out. However, there are other places that quiver me. Music is another touchstone and sitting among others enthralled by the miracle of sound created from our own breath and hands can give me goosebumps.

Then there is the warmth of people. I believe in the power of story to connect us all. We tell each other stories constantly, the silly and the profane. The drive into work isn't important, but the act sharing it with a co-worker connects us back to the human experience. How do you tell the story of yourself? How are you connected?

Snow Day

Ah, at last! We've got eight inches of powder on the ground after yesterday's snowy day.   The air is so calm that the spruce branches seem to just hover under their white flocking, waiting to be launched.

This morning we got the shoveling done and I'm happy that it really is a light powdery snow.  Much easier to fling. Also, it won't weigh down the twigs of the bushes and make them split. We had some serious breakage in last February's blizzard.

I can now confidently gaze out the windows and see all that 'winter interest'! Boy, do I need more evergreen shrubs. There's a lot of naked bark out there! The most popular place has been the herb bed as I left the basil, fennel, marjoram, and assorted others to go to seed. The chickadees and sparrows have been busy, so it's pretty cleaned out. I refilled the bird feeder and flung some under the lilac tree for the ground feeding juncos.

This is the front flower bed (with the damn gas meter). So pretty in a fresh snow.