COLUMN: It's Just a Country State of Mind: The poetry of winter

Well, we made it through the holidays, and now most of us are settling into our winter routines. Trying to stay warm is my main goal. I have always thought of January as a month to reflect on my own life and on any changes that I might need to make. It's a time of planning, a time to make changes, and a time to take stock of things. Life continues to bring its challenges to me daily, but the winter world around me seems oblivious to its demands.

Nature seems to be lying in a state of hibernation. Except for the occasional rabbits, birds, or squirrels that I see in my neighborhood, things appear to be quiet. Winter seems to have poetry all its own, but this poetry must be sought out. One must be silent to hear its whispers. When I step out into a forest, I hear no sound except the crunch of my footsteps as they walk on the frozen path in front of me. The silence that greets me nurtures my need for solitude. I look for signs of life in the winter landscape, but only after a dusting of snow do I see the animal tracks scattered along the edge of a well-worn trail that I frequent.

Our lives are like that. We leave footprints wherever we choose to go. It's proof of life to those who follow us. It's humbling to me to wonder where I fit into the bigger scheme of things. There's a poem by Robert Frost, Dust of Snow, that fits in with observing wildlife and the feel of winter that can sometimes interfere with our days:

The way a crow
Shook down on me,
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree.

Has given my heart
A change of mood,
And save some part,
Of the day I had rued.

Sometimes winter is like that. We can be brooding over our problems when suddenly life intervenes with small interruptions such as enjoying the birds as they eat from a feeder, watching the warming sun reflect off the new fallen snow, or listening to the winter silence. These are the interruptions that remind us that life is more than the cold, barren landscape that we see with new eyes. It is full of life and movement, light and mystery.

Under the cold, hard earth lies a hope of spring. In the grand scheme of things, winter is necessary and beautiful in its own right. A season of change that creeps up on us slowly, takes hold and doesn't let go until it has finished this work.

It is necessary to go through the cold of winter so that we will appreciate the warmth of the coming spring. Winter is poetry in motion. The words are not always visible, but they are there all the same. Take time to read the poetry of winter. It makes for a very good read. Besides, spring is just around the corner. And I can live with that.

Stay warm!

Susan