Yesterday I took a hike at Big Willow Park in Minnetonka. With little patches of the previous day’s snow still clinging to the grass and a biting cold wind I felt as if I was
Walking Towards Winter
with every step I took.
There was a desolate feel to the landscape on such a windy, overcast day. Still I met many people out hiking in the park. I always feel a little like I’m coming home when I return to walk at Big Willow. We lived near this park for many years and for a long time it was my favorite place to hike.
I saw several mallard ducks, six Canada geese, one squirrel, and many humans on my hike at Big Willow today. All of them looked happy to be out walking/swimming/flying/climbing despite the cold.
The weather today is much like yesterday, except that there is less wind today. But the sky is gray and the landscape outside my window looks a little bleak to me. The water in the pond behind our house hasn’t frozen yet. I’ve been gazing at it frequently these past few days, taking in the beauty of the reflections in the open water. Soon it will look very different with its covering of ice. I prefer open water to ice, but keep telling myself that each season brings its own beauty.
The pond today, still no ice!
Today I signed up to participate in Cornell University’s Bird Feeder Watch project for the coming year. So I’ll be recording and submitting information on bird counts that I see at my bird feeders over the seasons, at least two consecutive days per month. It seems like an interesting project and hopefully will help scientists better understand what is happening to bird populations over time. Tomorrow and Sunday are going to be my first feeder watch days.
This time of year I feel like I work harder to find beauty in the stark world around me. Do you also struggle to find beauty this time of year? What are your antidotes to winter doldrums? Poetry is one of my antidotes, especially anything by (who else?) Mary Oliver. Also, fresh flowers, a warm cup of tea, and a good book.
Landscape
Isn’t it plain the sheets of moss, except that
they have no tongues, could lecture
all day if they wanted aboutspiritual patience? Isn’t it clear
the black oaks along the path are standing
as though they were the most fragile flowers?Every morning I walk like this around
the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
ever close, I am as good as dead.Every morning, so far, I’m alive. And now
the crows break off from the rest of the darkness
and burst up into the sky — as thoughall night they had thought of what they would like
their lives to be, and imagined
their strong, thick wings.— Mary Oliver, Dream Work
Have a lovely weekend.
May you walk in beauty.
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