Each morning when I look out the window at the vast coating of white that has been hiding our landscape for too long...I think two things to myself.
It's only going to last as long as it does, and two, I can either complain or do something about it...
There's not much we can do to change the weather, it's here for as long as it wishes. Leaving this cold climate for a warmer one isn't an option, but I can look go outside and look for changes in the landscape.
Fresh alder catkins are springing from previously bare branches, newly littered with melting snowdrops that have fallen from the sky.
We have no choice but to outwait Winter
It's only going to last as long as it does, and two, I can either complain or do something about it...
There's not much we can do to change the weather, it's here for as long as it wishes. Leaving this cold climate for a warmer one isn't an option, but I can look go outside and look for changes in the landscape.
There are subtle signs of spring starting to show up
Fresh alder catkins are springing from previously bare branches, newly littered with melting snowdrops that have fallen from the sky.
Fluffy pussy willows, which had burst open from their winter hibernation before retreating back to dormancy, and sullenly shivering on the bare branches are once again showing sheer delight over the thought of spring.
In the forest, the trees are starting to look shabby, with their peeling bark, but buds are swelling in the canopy of bare branches overhead.
Birdsong is changing, with previously dour chirps cycling into hopeful cascades of notes that linger in the cold before soaring out over the white fields.
Red-winged blackbirds call out territory boundaries from their perch on the stiff brown cattails, and the magpies defend their twiggy nests against interlopers who may land nearby.
Biking down the bumpy back roads I've paused at the dip where the pond lays, partially covered in ice, thrilled to be listening to the quacks of the wild ducks as they paddle to the shore.
Shrill calls of the flickers echo between bare trunks, as the dull resonating thump of the woodpecker carries overhead. The cedar waxwings trill a melodic song high in the branches...all this beauty is layered over with the sound of running water in the ditches..
It's the music of our upcoming spring...
Happy upcoming spring to you also.
Jen @ RURAL magazine
In the forest, the trees are starting to look shabby, with their peeling bark, but buds are swelling in the canopy of bare branches overhead.
Changes
Birdsong is changing, with previously dour chirps cycling into hopeful cascades of notes that linger in the cold before soaring out over the white fields.
Red-winged blackbirds call out territory boundaries from their perch on the stiff brown cattails, and the magpies defend their twiggy nests against interlopers who may land nearby.
Biking down the bumpy back roads I've paused at the dip where the pond lays, partially covered in ice, thrilled to be listening to the quacks of the wild ducks as they paddle to the shore.
Shrill calls of the flickers echo between bare trunks, as the dull resonating thump of the woodpecker carries overhead. The cedar waxwings trill a melodic song high in the branches...all this beauty is layered over with the sound of running water in the ditches..
It's the music of our upcoming spring...
Happy upcoming spring to you also.
Jen @ RURAL magazine
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