It has been a very long time since I have been here, but today I got a notice from a new follower and decided it was time to come back. There have been some changes in my life since my last post: my husband passed away so life has altered, but not my love of it.
The garden has changed and evolved, too and now, in the time of COVID and in midwinter, it means more to me than ever. I look out at the whiteness all around and dream of blazing colour, of deep shadows and blinding light and joyful life in every corner.
For now, though, it is about finding beauty in the frozen world of late February. And it is there. Outside my window, two blue jays celebrate their love — they choose mates early when they are older — and I hope that the nest they settle on is in the spruce tree I can see from here so that I can enjoy their to-ing and fro-ing all through the year.
Today, snow is falling softly in big flakes scattered through the air like feathers from a pillow. They will clean up the landscape which begins to tire at this time of year and add a blanket of softness, obscuring the many footsteps laid down by winter animals that have been awakened from their slumber by the warm days of the past week. One of these is stray cat who has dug a nest under the front steps and no doubt has some kittens huddled there against the cold. I put out scraps of food from time to time. She accepts it without comment but doesn’t trust me at all. I tell her that I would love to have an outdoor cat and that she is welcome to stay as long as she likes. I think she doesn’t believe me. I hope the birds don’t feel betrayed, but it is, after all, the law of nature that one has to fend for oneself.
Winter has been strange this year, first the cold coming in early February when there is usually a thaw. Then, when the cold came, it was intense — 35 and 40 below Celsius on some nights; bitter, bitter cold. But the sun shone then and painted diamonds on the snow and the northern lights danced brilliantly in the sky outside town. There has been little sunspot activity for the past year, a harbinger of cold times and much magnetic interference with communications as well as being a prompter of the celestial light shows.
Now it is warm again, some days above zero with the snow melting and the clouds covering the sun. Last night there was a nimbus around the full moon foretelling of the snow today.
I wrote a poem about winter.
Winter beams of lemon hue
Fall upon the frozen dew,
Igniting streams of fractured light
That paint the fields of snowy white
In shades of pink and turquoise blue.
Sleeping twigs and withered stalks
Rimed with icy, crystal chalks
Show stark against the silver sky,
Etched in pale fluorescent dye,
Entrancing eyes on winter walks.
Dorothy Dobbie, Jan., 10, 2021