Winter Gold: Witch Hazel
My hands have never been so cold. I’m wearing gloves but they’re too thin, and the wind is howling. It’s what they used to call a lazy wind–it goes right through you instead of taking the trouble to go around. The skyscrapers of New York City make canyons for the wind to flow through like a bitter river. Cold gusts are slipping icy fingers down the back of my neck. Central Park is full of trees, but there’s nary a leaf anywhere to be seen (not counting pine needles). You wouldn’t think anything would be flowering now, in the darkest days of December. And...
Read MoreEver Green
The red and orange and gold leaves are gone, turned to crumpled brown paper. Now, in the dark days of winter, the evergreen trees come into their own. They’ve been there all along, of course, hidden by autumn’s lavish foliage. Now the green shines amid the bare branches. The spruces create a geometric shape, a long, narrow triangle against the skyline. Pines are ragged, unsymmetrical, lovably awkward. On north-facing slopes, graceful hemlocks shade the hillside. Sometimes the trees are frosted by snow, sometimes they sing in the wind. But the main thing about evergreens is that they’re...
Read MoreEvergreens: Deck the Halls
Welcome to December. It’s a month of irony, I find–the month dedicated to the celebration of light, in which we have the least amount of light. Days so short they seem to end before lunch. Cloudy skies, elusive sun. It’s the month in which winter starts, and ironically the one which is devoted to greenery. I mean, when else do people actually lug entire trees into their living rooms? Behavior that would seem eccentric in May makes complete sense in December. One of the best things about December, whether you celebrate Christmas or not, is that almost everywhere you go,...
Read MoreSocializing at the Beach
I go to the water’s edge for solitude, for meditation, for peace. But my dog goes for the social life. The beach on a wintry Sunday morning. All the humans are bundled in hats and scarves and parkas. We pass each other with a wordless nod, or no acknowledgement at all. But the dogs don’t give a darn about the wide horizon and the lonely sky. None of this solitary meditation stuff for them. To them the cold wind is rich with fascinating smells–it’s like a newspaper gossip column, packed with juicy information about their colleagues and neighbors. There are big dogs,...
Read MoreIce Storm
A few evenings ago, I was backing the car down the driveway, and thinking about something else at the same time. A sure recipe for disaster. And sure enough, I edged into a snowbank. The temperature was just above freezing, the snow soggy and soft, so I stuck fast. Not to worry, I got out the shovel and began to dig. It had been a rare warm day, full of rain, and the temperature was slowly getting colder as the rain drizzled down. The snow was gray and heavy as wet cement. As I burrowed away, the sinking temperature abruptly hit that magic point where everything changes. Suddenly it was 32...
Read MoreCrow Moon
Thanks to Diane Hale Smith for this beautiful cold Crow Moon. Giving a name to each full moon is an ancient Algonquin tradition. This month’s moon was known as the Worm Moon further south, because the worms begin to emerge from the earth around this time of year. It was also called the Crust Moon because the snow crusted over after thawing and freezing–which certainly describes the weather today, the snow is frozen as hard as cement. Or the Sap Moon, for the maple sap run. But the more northerly tribes (according to the Farmer’s Almanac) called it the Crow Moon, because...
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