Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Late Winter Thoughts (II)

The late winter self draws inward and becomes thoughtful and more observant, watching patiently as the sun strengthens, the shadows shorten and the snowdrifts along the trail retreat slowly, deepening in hue and revealing a lacy fretwork as they go.

A seasonal meditation of sorts is this, one which delights in the slow advent of springtime but always seems to engender some measure of sadness. I feel passionate about these wild and snowy windswept places with their whiskery trees and deep blue shadows, and I am more at home in them than I am anywhere else on island earth. Sunlight and warmth will indeed be treasured when the world becomes green again, but some part of me will always be mourning vanished winter with its sprucey perfume and starkly sculptured vistas.

Albert Camus wrote that in the depths of winter, he discovered within himself an invincible summer. Now in late winter, I am dreaming of orchards, wild orchids and songbirds in the trees like almost everyone else in the north, but within a few months, my dreams will be of snow, ice and stillness. I have need of it all, the apples, the orchids and the grosbeaks — but I need snow, ice and stillness too.

If you have a moment today, please browse over to the website of one of my favourite thinkers, movers and shakers on matters related to global warming and environmental issues, Dr. David Suzuki, and please think about signing up for the Nature Challenge while you are there. There is so much we can do to help the Old Wild Mother heal.


silverlight said...

Each season has it's own charm.
Enjoy each as it comes.

Anonymous said...

There is something about the way snow reshapes everything that I find quite beautiful and wish I lived near. Here blue skies actually become monotonous, though in more pragmatic moments I'm grateful we don't have the cold you do.