A Winter’s Sleep

I think I’ve always been fascinated by the change of seasons within the world around me; its something that I always took more or less for granted until I moved to a part of the world that didn’t have distinct changes of season. After that, I began to miss it – particularly when the part of the world I moved to had only two seasons, and then only in the loosed interpretation of the term: hot and fucking hot. Sometimes in the former it rained.

Don’t get me wrong; there are parts of that world and that life I really miss, particularly when I seem to be permanently 10 degrees colder than everyone around me – including my former pre-stroke self. I used to think it was just a matter of getting used to it all once again, but this is my second winter now, and I fear the changes with regard to my internal thermostat are permanent. Still, even though I’m freezing this time of year if not literally bundled up, I don’t think I would enjoy life nearly as much now without the annual changes brought by spring, summer, autumn and winter.

It makes me appreciate life that much more here in an area of the States where all four seasons are distinct and varied. Take for example this log, the one on the left, one of many such logs in Burnet Woods in various states of decay.

It's a log

Back in October, even as autumn was under way, the park was teeming with life; even a log can be home to both plant and animal, among others.

I took a thousand frames to get this shot ...

But now that same log looks dead; in fact the entire park is frozen and silent in the dead of winter.

its a frozen log

One can see from one end of the park to the other now that the leaves are fallen and scattered.

helloooo ....

But it isn’t really dead, the park, only lying dormant. It is 18.8 degrees F – that’s about minus 7 C – as I write this, but nature is lying in wait, just below the snow, ready to spring … as it were, heh … at the first sign of warm temperatures. And if you are one of those that hates the cold and snow, think of this way: it’s as easy as water sliding of a duck’s back – or snow of a goose’s butt.

the bacjs of geese ...

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