It’s winter. The days are getting longer and the light is a warmer, honey-colored smear when I head back up the hills to my home. We are in the dead-zone of February and the signs of life are so scarce and intimate. The tracks at the back of my property, spoke of a silent shush left by a cross-country skier who’s only trace was the dents in the driven snow.
Silence was only broken by the raven, whose roost we disturbed as we trekked to the base of the ledges. It is difficult to honestly portray the scope and height of the ledges. Wilson stepped into my shot, conveniently adding scale. Alice found deer tracks and was off, distracted by an ancient scent that obliterated my calls.
I am living in the ice age. Learning to embrace what is beyond my garage, heated truck, and comfortable world is key to enjoying this particular NOW that is winter in New Hampshire.
I live with five four-legged beings, and there is Night who lives down the road. This past weekend, after working in the store four days, I took Sunday to just do errands and enjoy the recent snowfall. Night provided me with a view of the woods unavailable to the average person. Alice joined me in the afternoon for a snowshoe trek into the far reaches of my property.
More snow is predicted for today but rather than greet this news with the usual negativity, I am reminding myself that the spring melt will help guard against a summer drought. Vegetable gardens and hay fields will thrive if I can just see beyond the temporary inconveniences of drifting snow and frost heaves on the roads.