Once upon a time . . . there was a season named Winter. Now winter isn’t typically capitalized unless it falls at the start of the sentence, but for the sake of our story, it shall be so.
And there was a young woman . . . well, she’s old actually, but don’t tell her that because her twelve-year-old self still lives within her heart. This young woman decided to check on Winter. But she didn’t want to wear snowshoes and so she did a lot of postholing, making her feel more her actual age.
The young woman’s search led to islands such as this, but still Winter persisted and made its presence known.
Everywhere, the young woman heard the drumming of Pileated Woodpeckers, all friends of Winter, but because she was postholing, she couldn’t get a good look at the birds.
She did, however, find scat! Of course she did. This one seemed to be full of insect bodies and some seed capsules. And if you look closely, you too might see something else in this photo in the form of even smaller insects–Springtails. They also adore Winter.
The next stop on the young woman’s tour was a visit to the neighborhood vernal pool, where soon she’ll spend hours staring into its shallow depth and watching all of the activity that takes place there. For now, Winter still has a slight hold on the pool.
After some more postholing, the young woman finally reached a well-packed trail and paused as she often does beside a small stream where the dappled sunlight highlighted at least ten shades of green. But still Winter was there.
In another location, the young woman discovered the blues and grays of the sky above reflected in the brook below and the sight of more color tested her love of Winter.
But Winter wasn’t ready to go to bed just yet and a coat of thin ice on quiet water proved that point.
Behold, however, in the sky above, a Turkey Vulture’s raised its wings in its dihedral habit as it rocked back and forth on the brisk wind that marked this day. Winter saw this as well and began to wonder.
And this Pussy Willow the young woman paused beside added to Winter’s wonder.
“Should I stay or go?” asked Winter.
The young woman thought and thought. It was a most difficult question to answer because of her love for Winter. But in the end, she said, “Sweet Dreams, Winter. Stay under your covers and when you wake up next December, we shall meet again.”
2 thoughts on “Sweet Dreams”
I love this story. You are so talented. My snowshoes broke early on this winter so I have done a lot of postholing. A new word for me. Linda
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I know where you can get some zip ties to fix those snowshoes, Linda. That’s what I use. Thanks for commented and for your kind words.
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