The winter wood is silent and still. Here days are born old and quickly fade beneath low hanging grey. Whispering branches and crunching footsteps are the only audible sounds. The wood seems to be sleeping, waiting for the warm touch of Spring to rouse it from somber dreams of ice and snow.
Knock, Knock, Knock, Knock! The silence is broken by the happy foraging of a Hairy Woodpecker. His purposeful questing belies the melancholy of the slumbering wood. The cold silence does not seem to bother him, nor does it a few other brave creatures for that matter. Perhaps it is because they are perfectly equipped to thrive amongst the frosted timber. Many seem to slow their activities, carefully weighing costs against benefits. They seem to know that Winter punishes the foolish, selecting out those not worthy for the joys of Spring. The knocking has stopped. Perhaps he has gone to visit the more forgiving feeders. Winter pardons none.
Somewhere, perhaps, a Great Horned Owl is peering down from his roost, hiding behind the quietude, waiting for night to blanket the wood. In the fading light, White-tailed Deer begin moving under slow breathing trees, browsing already bare branches.
As the day wanes to night, snow begins to fall. The wood stirs. Icy dreams give way to warm flashes of warbler yellow and bunting blue. Songs of Spring float through the reverie. Stars break the grey, anticipating the moon’s arrival. She too escapes the grip of the clouds, and looks down upon the icy wood below. The Great Horned Owl announces the onset of dusk. A growing blanket of snow covers the soil. The winter wood is silent and still.
(All images included in this and other entries on this site were taken by and belong to me)
All Images © 2012 Brian Lang
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