Snow On Grandfather Juniper
No animal, according to the rules of animal-etiquette, is ever expected to do anything strenuous, or heroic, or even moderately active during the off-season of winter. Kenneth Grahame
Ah words that ring deep in my animal self on this first blog day of the new year. I hear the trees in the woods out back cheering, YES! Us too!
I begin this new calendar year much as I ended 2024. Longing for the deep snow, deep rest, deep reflection, and deep curiosity for exploring new territories via the stack of diverse books that found their way to me just in time.
This blog day I’m grateful for the snow that fell overnight Monday and into the day yesterday. I cherish yesterday afternoon’s meandering through the woods out back. Walking slowly. Pausing. Observing. Listening. Noticing where the snow lands and collects on the limbs, branches, needles, and cones of the Pinion pines and other tree beings. Smiling at the old tree stumps offering up ‘sculptures’ for those with eyes to see. Transformed by the snow, tortoise hides, while dragons, dinosaur, elephant, and a fairy castle catch my eye.
Hearing and feeling the soft crunch underfoot, I notice the absence of tracks in the fresh snow. No evidence that deer, rabbit, coyote, or bobcat have wandered through. No flitting of winged ones in the treetops as I take care with each step to land on firm ground rather than a slippery rock being or tender cacti.
I saunter in grateful awe of the quiet, although, like the snow, it’s not as deep as I imagine Mother Nature would prefer. Not as deep as I wish in my longing to more deeply snuggle into winter’s call for deep rest and reflection.
I notice in my longing that human habit of not being satisfied, of wanting more (or less, if the snow is too deep), a habit that seems all too deeply imbedded in our culture, separating us from Nature’s rhythms.
Deep. That seems to be my word for winter and for this day. Deep quiet. Deep snow. Deep rest. Deep reflection. Deep longings that, for my rhythm, are at odds with a shallow world that has turned the page into a new year, beckoning one and all to spring into action.
I resist the world’s call. Whether or not deep snow falls, my BEing, body/mind/soul-spirit, need the deep rest of winter to prepare. For in my time of rest and reflection, I connect with Gaia. With the cosmos. With Source, deepening my trust as I listen, moment to moment, day to day, to the call from within.
Spring, with its longer daylight, will come soon enough. The planets will align for more active, focused engagement in the world. For now, I’m blessed to listen and respond to winter’s call.
Tortoise Hides