It snows. And snows more..
We are in an endless landscape of white, renewed every other day, with a bit of time in between to clear a way out.
Today is another grey, snowy, cold, silent day.
But it is light until 6 and it will be March next week and we will have floods and mud soon.
I know small critters scurry beneath the feet of snowpak.
I know the stream gurgles under the ice.
The willows all glow yellowish and the brush blush red.
Spring will come, though we are at times doubting that.
Or like in a deep sleep we have forgotten.
But I hear birds begin to sing, and I remember that soon pre-dawn I will wake to their cacophonic morning calls.
Imbolc- we saw the lengthening of days, the healing of our friends and the passing of great ones. Endless snows foggy our days but what is important stands out always.
First there was the owl, coming close over our house in that snowstorm just before the holiday and sitting in the tree out the window and looking at me, at us, allowing us time to take pictures, to make sure we got it.
Or perhaps first was the ice and snow. Making us extra grateful for every bit of sun, for a day off the mountain,
for a brief melt gathering sticks to supplement the last of our wood, and finally burning last year’s calendar.
Moving forward imperceptibly.
Then there were the art shows- framing and hanging work, going to openings, writing copy, encountering coincidences and connections always.
Lots of driving to the same places,
hurt ankle enforced rest,
more and more snow,
Pete Seeger songs.
What really matters, what perseveres?