What better
place to be on a frigid winter night than your Grandma’s toasty farm house?
Earlier in the day you could see the snow hanging heavy on the branches of the
spruce that border the large yard. Some of the limbs kissed the deep snowbank
already, but still the big flakes kept falling and piling up. Every now and
then, and branch reached its limit, and a white, powdery cloud of snow
fluttered to the earth.
On the
surface of the snow, you could see lots of tracks. Rabbit trails criss-crossed
and turned back showing that the little creatures had made it their business to
explore every corner of Grandma’s yard. Here and there were the three-toed
footprints of the Magpie or one of the other birds who sticks around to enjoy
the crisp winter months with us wingless sorts.
The
birdfeeder was alive with winter activity. Wee little chickadees and nuthatches
flitted and hopped and dance back and forth, nipping from the heap of sunflower
seeds spilling out of the feeder onto the feeding tray and scattering onto the
porch below. The birds dashed back and forth, cocked their little heads this
way and that, and sometimes they even chased each other around in great
demonstrations of acrobatics.
Then,
occasionally, they were interrupted by an impossibly shocking splash of blue as
a blue jay dropped in for lunch, or a streak of soft, furry red of a squirrel
determined to fill his winter stores.
You and
Grandma spent a good chunk of the afternoon at the dining room window closest
to the birdfeeder with your cameras.
But
that was this afternoon. The sun sets early this time of year. Now, although it
isn’t that late at night, all you can see is the out the front window is the
living room lights glaring off the blackened window pane. You sigh. It was a
clear day all day and you know that there is a stunning array of stars out their
just begging you to come outside and gasp. In the summer, you would have been
out there in a heart-beat. But it’s just too bitingly cold this time of year,
to go out without bundling up in six inches of clothing, and even so, you’d still
probably be back in minutes. Your adventures with Mother Nature are done for the
day.
But
that’s okay. You’re contented to curl up on the sofa, bathed in the golden
light of a family living room and bury yourself in one of Grandma’s books or
flip through some of her photo albums and breath in the delicious aromas of
Grandma’s cooking wafting in warm waves from the kitchen. What better place to
be on a cold night than right here?
“Hey!”
It’s Grandma, from the kitchen, “Hey!” she says, “Come here! Quick! Hurry!”
You
drop your book and rush into the kitchen. You’re sure she needs you to peel
potatoes or set the table or something, and you’re all too happy to help.
But
when you get to the kitchen, she’s not handing you any cooking tools, or even
standing at the stove herself. She’s at the counter peering out the window that
looks out over her garden. It’s winter. The garden is dark, empty and frozen,
now, and it will be for awhile, yet. What could she be looking at? Without
turning around she waves her hand behind her at you.
“Hey!”
she whispers, “Turn out the kitchen light and come over here!”
Confused,
you do as she asks, and as the light snaps out, the dark shadows out the window
take on a whole new dimension. The scraggly figures of her naked, sleeping raspberry
bushes take form. Across the garden, the birch and aspen of the woods come into
view, held back by Grandma’s old wooden garden gate, and casting their long,
thin shadows in stripes across the smooth, white, untouched crust of snow
covering the vegetable patch.
And
right in the middle of it all, a couple of Ruffed Grouse make their patient way
across the shadows and streams of silver moonlight, playing across the snow. In
slow, small steps, they work their way across the deep snow, leaving a straight
and steady trail of footprints behind them across the garden.
You
stand there for some time, dinner, weather and all else forgotten. Just you,
Grandma and Mother Nature. What better place to be on a cold, winter night?
Photo by Eraheem
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