We have rung every possible seasonal weather change in recent days, the pendulum oscillating from snow and bitter cold to a rain and above zero temperatures. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth we go.
What to do? A walk on an overcast day is the ticket, dressing warmly and keeping to the area around the creek sheltered by tall old trees. The temperature hovers around zero, but there is a bitter north wind, and our fingers and toes tingle as we (Beau and I) potter along. There are footprints in the snow along the creek's verges, the tracks of birds and field mice, cottontail rabbits, now and then a raccoon. This morning, there are also the prints of a weasel (or ermine as it is known in winter when its fur turns white). Not surprising as the little creature is a fierce and very proficient mouser.
A few days ago, the little waterway was starting to open again, but it was cold overnight, and the channel has iced up again except for an opening near the bend where the water flows a little faster. In that small and hopeful aperture, the icy water sparkles, holding clouds and light and whiskery branches. It sings blithely of light returning, and it counsels patience. It reminds me that we can continue to flow, even when we seem to be frozen in place. Under parka, boots and woolly hat, there beats an ebullient heart, little rivers and arteries singing their way along.
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