Like me, winter as of March 8th is old and crusty and crunchy. I took the morning of my 66th birthday to walk the woods at dawn and witness the last of the season that is colorless but displays beauty like a black and white photograph ... all contrast and forms and distance that is hidden when growth and green return. The snow is stiff and rippled with tracks of all sizes and directions. I add my own footprints to the patterns. I hear the song of birds calling to sleeping plants to awake and send out the first shoots. Like me, the woods await the return of the robins. Anticipation is there but so is the patience to know “all in good time, all in good time.” Nature has the wisdom to not rush, but to linger over what is and appreciate what has been.
I am 66 and try to follow that example. Not to rush into the coming season but to linger over what is and appreciate what has been. It is a good birthday.
