I’m much more a spectator than a participant in winter any more. Since our kids have fledged and our inner children have grown cautious and perhaps unnecessarily averse to extremes of thermometer or muscular exertion, there are no snow forts or sledding, no snow cream or snow angels.
But at least we live in such a place that we are the first to walk the pasture while snow falls on an unblemished sheet of white, and the next day, find the burrows of rodents, the leaping imprint of rabbits, the hand-sized peace-sign three parted Y of turkey tracks, just outside our windows.
But today, in January, we’re happy to be in from the wind, not far from the wood stove, with a cup of hot chocolate or a glass of wine and a good book. We’re happy to watch winter pass from inside the glass, through which we will search for the first reddening of the maple buds high on the ridge to tell us we can emerge soon from hibernation and say hello to green again.
Click the image for a little gallery of winter images, a few you’ve seen, a few you haven’t.