Three Seasons

The sun began peeking her lazy head up over the east edge of Light Point Pond. Peering slowly she knows there is no need to rush about. No calisthenics to perform, no morning ritual to run through. Stretch and slowly rise - she casts her light upon the Earth. Her warmth and love emanate into the pores and cells of everything she touches. All are joyous to be in her company.

A few scattered clouds begin to move in bringing a soft gentle rain. At first appearing as a fine mist then transforming to a heavy dense fog lingering in the air. Turning to tiny raindrops which soon become a downpour of water working feverishly to melt the snow and cold clutches of the winter season. The drops sound heavy upon the icy covered snow as if falling hard upon a tin roof.

Swiftly the rain has transformed to large puffy tuffs of snowflakes. Silently falling they are greeted by a gentle breeze which picks them up and dances briefly with them. Up, up and around and down. They demonstrate a show of faith as they are cast about in mid-air much like trapeze artists and when they come down they land so silently and gently no bones are ever broken. They smother the pre-existing winter scene with a fresh pristine cloak of white.

Three seasons I have just experienced while drinking my morning coffee. I watched a summer’s sun rise begin to warm the day subtly turn to a soft spring rain removing another layer of winters clothing only to return back again to snowfall. All in a very short course of time, Nature constantly changes her banquet of weather offering a wide variety of delights to those who frequent her daily buffets.

Nature's Sounds

It’s so simple; you learned it in first grade while reading stories about Dick and Jane.

Stop-Look-Listen.

That is all that’s required to grasp a moment in Nature and hear her subtle story. She speaks in soft whispers of her quiet journey as she wanders homeward.

It wasn’t an unusually cold morning not a frigid snap or anything like that when I happened upon the sounds of ‘Making Ice’. The creek was flowing and creating a small pool of foam in its center closing in around itself. As I stood and gazed at the foam collecting and forming I became aware of another subtler sound; pop, snap, sizzle, crack, pop, snap, sizzle, crack. Almost like someone cooking something on a very hot griddle-sizzling hot! One needed to be very quiet as it was being overshadowed by the normal sound of the water flowing. Water turning to ice, snapping, crackling, I wonder if it’s painful? or maybe just the joyous sound of transformation.

A few days later I paused spotting the freshly pecked holes of the Pileated Woodpecker who has ravaged about a half dozen trees around Light Point Pond. His line of travel is as obvious as his feeding grounds and the chips of pine wood scattered and littered surrounding the tree trunks. Again as I quieted myself I heard the caw of crows flying in from the south, caw, caw, deep guttural caws. Two flying overhead so low I could hear their wings flapping, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. One, as if he knew I was there below appeared to stop in flight for just an instant and generated a single WHOOOOSH and then kept going onward to his next feeding grounds.
What was the crows’ message? Did he know I was there below?

Stop-Look-Listen, it’s happening all around you all the time.