02.13.15 “There’s always a false dawn around this time of year, but I can’t help but wonder if Winter is turning.” I follow a blog by Ben Pentreath, a wonderful English architect, photographer and writer who splits his time between London and a quintessential country home, and he talked about Winter turning over there. (Could this pink boat, steering wheel on the left, be British!). Yesterday, on our morning run, we both said the smells, moisture, and the sounds reminded us of early Spring days spent in England over the years. Except there was no wind, unlike the stiff breezes which sway their fields of daffodils back and forth violently. And when I went for a walk in the afternoon and took this photograph, there was such cold that came up from the ground.
We saw our first Robin, proudly announcing his arrival at the top of a tree. The male Red Wing Blackbirds have been making their cacophony of noises in the cattails, and the geese are honking everywhere overhead. The pair who hang out at Hamm’s old place to the south of us, honk on their way down there every morning around 7:30, and yesterday perched on top our very tall stone chimney. Sunlight dazzled the white backs of the Tundra swans who were gathered in a spontaneous pond in the fields at the head of the lake, and there was that tell-tale odor of a skunk as I drove by. I heard on the news that the first Grizzlies have awakened over in Yellowstone.
A surge of cold and maybe some snow are headed our way on Sunday. We need good ice for the big Pond Hockey event next week-end. And, it’s always a good thing to stay in season. Even so, Winter is turning. I find that in getting older, one of the small graces in life is that I am surprised–amazed almost–that Winter does, indeed turn, and a new season begins anew. Darned if it doesn’t happen every year!