You know what I am talking about don’t you? Its that moment when something is in the air and you can feel the seasons are about to change.
Right now we are preparing to hunker down into our caves for the winter in Canada. As a newly transplanted country gal find I notice the seasons more intensely now that I live in a rural setting. A far cry from my prior 25 year city existence of rushing from subway, to streetcar, to cappuccino, to appointment with a client or making my gym class on time. Now I have a different set of priorities, which include taking care of my ever expanding vegetable garden, making a rug, canning and preserving my garden goodies and taking care of our small patch of land.
But where life is different now is those moments of wonderment while observing mother earth as she unfurls herself; season after season; year after year. Each spring I observe in amazement as flowers, baby plants and leaves on the trees emerge from dense soil and what is grey dead arms sticking out from tree trunks laden with heavy snow. Green doesn’t seem possible in February. The lovely wild flower in her variety; she parades forth as the last snow drift disappears until the first flake of it whispers “time to sleep”.
These memories and experiences are what get me through the Canadian winter. I feed the dark-eyed Junco who visits my bird feeder deep into the winter, his fine feathered suit doesn’t go unnoticed on me. Behind my house the majesty of the pines and spruce laden with snow are obvious now that the other trees have lost their leaves. This scene is the poetry I await after a heavy snow dust up. The great horned owl who sat in my tree for 2 hours while I observed his haughty peering into my binoculars helped me wait through the rest of February. For spring to return.
So I give you, city dwellers advice, do what I did only rarely when I lived in Toronto. Listen for the goldfinch because he exercises his voice in the city parks. The wild flower and wooded areas are to refresh your spirit and is the voice of god manifest in form.
© Lorraine Hughes 2014
