The trees that have been so beautiful are shedding their finery and taking on their severe winter aspect.
On Tuesday, the big mulberry in the pasture was a blaze of chrome yellow. Then the air got cold--into the twenties--and on Wednesday morning, there was a chrome yellow carpet at the base of the bare-branched tree.
Roses still bloom in a sheltered spot, but the cold time is upon us.
My mind turns to baking, to soups and stews, to reading by the fire, to painting in the sunny dining room.
I love having four distinct seasons--even if the season we're entering is my least favorite. The bare trees let us see the shape of the land, and the barren aspect of that land is deceptive--not dead but awaiting a glorious resurrection.
Spring wouldn't be half so sweet if it didn't follow bitter Winter.
3 comments:
Nothing can make me like winter!
I'm a little surprised that you are not farther behind us than you are.
Winter is lovely -- the ebon lace of branches against a blazing azure sky, a blanket of diamond dust snow sparkling on the ground -- when seen through a window from a comfortable chair in a cozy warm room. Preferably with a cat purring on one's lap, a dog sleeping on one's feet, and a mug of hot tea or chocolate in one's hand.
Shoveling the cement-like snow upon the driveway, cars splashing brown slush upon the blackened mountain range left by the plow, blades of cold piercing your gloves and boots -- well, "lovely" is not the first word that comes to mind. One envies then the hibernating bears all fatly snug in their dens.
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