This winter

 

A few weeks ago we had three days in succession of the coldest weather I can ever remember since I’ve lived here on the coast of South Carolina. That cold spell did horrific damage to our plants, reminding us once again that Nature holds surprises, especially as climate change results in extreme weather events of all kinds.

But we are blessed to still have four very distinct seasons here. We get some quite cold days, but not many, just enough to let us know winter has come to stay for awhile. We have the abundant live oaks and their year-round green leaves to make the bare winter oaks and other trees stand out that much more.

We have absolutely perfect Spring and Fall seasons, which stretch out over weeks and months of the most delightfully cool weather, perfect for walking and being outdoors.

Summer is admittedly our most distinctive season, hot and humid for months on end, but if we get enough rain, our gardens and landscapes become green and verdant with a profusion of summer flowers. I’d say nine months of near-idyllic weather makes summers bearable. Life seems to be regulated in a sense by the changing seasons, and I always have my camera handy to record all the changes.

So back to winter. The recent successive days of deep freeze ended with a return to much more normal cool days and somewhat cold nights. So enjoyable for walks. But our cold snap reminded me of winters decades past, that seemed colder on average than now. So cold that I could be inspired to write this poem 23 years ago:

This Winter

Cold embrace of winter,
sharp and clear.
It livens me up.
Feels good to be out
, but
makes me retreat
Way back into my coat’s
deep-pocketed warmth,
seeking protection
from the season’s icy grip.

At last: cold, cold day at dawn;
still world and quarter-moon;
bare trees in slimmest blue sky
at first light of day.
No sounds, and silence
as cold air sinks deeper
and harder to the ground.

Be kind, sun,
to the tiny birds who flit
from branch to branch
in two pin oaks high above
the bench where I sit alone,
momentarily watching
with keen appreciation
these and other winged creatures
braving the elements
as if winter were just another
seasonal fact of life.

Today, this cold air is nice
and actually soothes my numbed brow.
There are no people around
to even slightly distract me
from my thoughts
of other winter days long past
in this beautiful old park
 in all seasons,
where I
 Catch rays of autumn insight
and notice spring’s delight
at showing off the ancient tulip poplar
full of yellow, cupped flowers.
Imagine that:
A soaring tree in bloom!

In summer I wait till near dusk
and venture out to this same park
to listen for crickets
and the last of the cicadas
droning farewell to the day.

I’m still on the bench,
ready to leave, but reluctant.
Not yet.
Sit a while longer.
I’ll talk a little more to you,
small inner voice
which keeps me company.
It’s only my thoughts.

Cold winter day
draws to a close.
Quick now.
I’m leaving.
These quiet moments of isolation
lost in idle reverie
will pass through time’s portal
and vanish.

But as I get up now,
I’m taking a deep breath
of that really cold air
And quickly leaving my thoughts behind.
They’ll be back soon enough.
This winter.

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