Snowscape

Last week my sister in California was complaining that her children miss 'one whole season of fun' because of the climate there. I agreed, but I'm sure she was thinking of more active winter fun than I was. To me, the warmer seasons are for activity; Winter is more contemplative.

Winter is the pause to rest, the annual equivalent of sleep. Not only do our bodies need it, but our minds need to assimilate the events and lessons we were too busy to absorb while they were happening. The cold that forces us indoors is a blessing, not a curse. It's nature's way to have this seasonal down-time, and the angler living in touch with nature appreciates this. The woods sleep, the quitting-time whistle having blown for the chlorophyll factories of the trees. Ponds and lakes sleep under a slowly-thickening blanket of ice. Streams and rivers murmur drowsily, and the fish therein lapse into the cold-blooded creatures' stand-by mode.

But with the first breath of crisp, dry winter air, I feel revived. For the first time in eight months of ceaseless activity, I look around me with no thought but appreciation. The winter landscape, a study in black, white, and grey, awakens the artist in me. Not only for its beauty; The absence of leaves broadens my horizons, and the two-tone simplicity allows me to see things I otherwise would not. I see the structure of the land: Rock outcrops, bogs, spring holes, areas of rough texture amidst the smooth snow. I see the paths deer make, white ribbons through brush, pocked with their unmistakable tracks. Snow highlights the prints of all sorts of wild creatures, a fascinating story to read, and I avidly peruse them. For a season, Life imitates Art: An Ansel Adams photograph in black-and-white, arresting in its lovely simplicity and a meaning too intense for words.

When this serenity becomes too much to bear, I only have to look at my bird feeder to find relief. The birds take these winter colors and give them life, zipping through the cold air, hopping across the snow crust, scampering up tree trunks. The splashes of red or yellow plumage strike the eye all the more forcefully for the contrast with the landscape, and the occasional male cardinal is a feast for color-starved eyes. Most of all, the swooping, squabbling, greedy flock remind me that winter IS a whole 'nother season of fun. Whether you get outdoors to appreciate it, or enjoy it through a window from the comfort of a heated home, celebrate the season!

--Rabbit Jensen--

Winter 2008 Issue