The bed of garlic I planted in October is under the mulch of leaves and the crust of snow and ice. They are growing, even unseen. The soil, also unseen, teems with more life than I’ll ever know or even imagine.
Even above ground, even at temperatures below freezing, so much is happening. The Witch Hazel has flowered. “Bugs” still fly when the sun shines. Birds toss themselves like bits of pepper across the windy sky. And suddenly a bright Goldfinch shows up in winter plumage and then a Cardinal. Honestly, there is so much I cannot see it all.
And the days are getting longer even if slowly and even if on gray days it seems so, so gray. As I mark the calendar with the dates of the winter Farmers’ Markets, I quickly arrive in April! A miracle of imagination.
But I don’t want to rush ahead! I’ve too much to do and enjoy while winter is still here, including some not doing. Curling up on my end of the couch, Liz on the other, reading that part of Wind in the Willows where Mole ventures out into the snow. Or maybe just staring out the window for a while. XC skis await a bit more snow, but the walk I took yesterday in Hubbard Park was lovely with the off-trail ground frozen firm enough to walk nearly anywhere, a true gift. I’ll bide my time until the garlic show above the mulch and snow in April!
The sun will rise tomorrow regardless of my seeing it or not. I mark this day—a healthy, even if artificial, delineation on which I can simultaneously say goodbye as well as greet. And I want to thank you, kind readers, for following my wanderings over the past month. There is still so much to see in life, isn’t there! I look forward to a New Year of sharing more of my thoughts on learning to see and some of the photographs of what I’m seeing.