There was just a dusting of snow on the ground when I went outside this morning, but that small change in the look of the landscape alerted me that stories were being told everywhere I looked. There were thousands…perhaps millions of conversations and narratives all around me. Here are a just few of those I noticed.
This is the leaf that opened my eyes to the stories all around me. “I was there when the snow came down,” it said, “but an ever so slight breeze let me dance two steps to the side.”
Under the birdfeeder the tracks told me that in the short time between dawn and my arrival with the seed, many birds had been here, looking for food.
As always the view of Scorton Creek just after dawn tells tales and sings songs. It speaks of the rhythm of the tides, the promise of a clear day, the patience of the dormant plants that are safeguarding their resources during the winter, and the temperatures of the soil that melt the snow in one place but keep it fresh elsewhere.
When I go to the woodpile to bring in logs for the stove, I uncover a small mouse nest. It tells of tiny, soft pieces, carefully gathered and assembled four feet off the ground. Bits of hydrangea flowers, fur, grasses, and pine needles, ornamented with one small feather.
The Pieris japonica ‘Dorothy Wycoff’ buds speak of patience during the cold season, but endurance done with style. When much of the winter landscape is decked in brown, gray and white, this shrub speaks of fortitude with flair.