Saturday, January 05, 2019

Winter Morning

Snow fog over the field
Quiet Saturday morning.
The dog had dove back underneath the covers when bare feet hit the cold floor so only human eyes witnessed another change in the weather.
It's that kind of winter on the east coast: a mix of snow and rain, melt and freeze. Ice beneath the snow. Fog in the morning.
Yesterday's dawning sun dog witnessed but not photographed. The snow arrived soon after .This morning's ominous clouds heralded the rain and ice and snow to come overnight. 

Just looking. Not getting down on hands and knees to smell the morning scents of raccoon and deer, squirrel and crow. The human arms reach up, the human nose inhales, the human chest expands.
Blood flows, breath flows, brain absorbs.

Booted footsteps crunched through the snow. The dog may be looking out the window by now but no one is alone outside. In the trees on the left, a trio of starlings sang their strange songs, sounding more like jungle birds than deep Canadian winter birds. The blue jays, annoyed at the delay to breakfast, hollered from the trees behind the house.
The seeds will find their way into feeders, onto back-deck tables, will be strewn beneath the pine trees, all in due time. But first, human eyes need to see the sun rise, however obscurely, hear the frost beneath the feet, and follow the deer tracks to the edges of field and river, earth and sky.

Snow fog and sky over the river

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