Waiting for Snow

From the Archives

First Snow - November 30, 2024 | Photo by author

It’s cold today. In a few hours, freezing drizzle is forecasted.

I’d like to finish some Christmas shopping and get a package mailed. I need to take the recycling and clear space for more. Instead, I’m sitting at my computer, remembering Christmas past, making my list for Christmas present, and dreaming of white Christmases yet to come.

Our first snow arrived early over Thanksgiving week. It melted quickly, but I’m ready for the excitement of more. Falling snow never gets old for me – whether a dusting or a storm. Perhaps because I made my first earthly appearance on the winter solstice, snow is magical to me.

But I don’t like ice – call it freezing drizzle if you must. It’s only tolerable once everyone I love and care about is safely home with a mug of hot chocolate. Unfortunately, that won’t likely be the case when the ice arrives midday.

So, I’ll wait it out, listening to my soothing Christmas CDs and putting words on paper that may or may not become something. I’ll snuggle up and eagerly await the next fluffy snow to blanket my cottage garden. Somehow, its appearance always warms my heart.

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Winter Garden

A Quiet Space

From the Archives: January 19, 2024

My winter garden 
sparkles 
in the rising sun
a quiet place 
pulling me 
to look closer 
to sense something 
deeper
 
A blanket of snow
unusually deep
a stark backdrop 
for the cardinal’s brilliance 
a soft gathering place 
for the hardy dark-eyed juncos

A red feathered head 
revealing 
the woodpecker’s hidden spot 
hopping 
along the tree’s trunk 
pecking 
in search of
something unseen

Cecil and Hodge scamper 
from the base of their tree 
through the yard 
across the fence 
stealing
the remnants of seeds 
intended for their flying friends

The vibrant hues of the seasons before 
replaced with 
sheer blue icicles and
fluffy snowball drifts

Hints of red, blue, yellow, and orange 
dance for a moment 
around the bare branches 
I dare not blink 
lest I miss 
the feathered display

My winter garden, 
so easily dismissed
until I pause 
to wonder at its beauty

Quickly
before its warmth melts away

Cecil. Photo by Andrew J. Kettle