Changing Season

The wind has been blowing on and off for a few days. It appears to be from the south. Sitting inside at night you hear the terrific Whoom Who-Oooom of its deep howl. I always think about the animals at the barn when the wind is loud. For some reason, I enjoy its sound and like falling asleep to it.

Maybe it's a reminder how secure and blessed we are in our homes-- even a very old farmhouse like mine: it's made very solid. I am pretty sure houses are not made like this anymore, unless it's intentional.

A few sprinklings of light, glittery snow were breezing their way down into my backyard as I checked on the birds this morning. There have been several times when it is snowing in my backyard, which faces north, while the front of the house has no snowfall.

Bright flashes of color were winging their way past my window: blues, red, grey...soon the goldfinches will trade their winter olive...

pixabay.com

 for the bright, festive yellow.

The ground is bare and soft after warm days and rain this week. Everything around me is wearing the brown and tans of plants about to come alive. Mt. Mansfield in the distance is still topped with snow.

Winter lets go slowly and gently, its long tentacles reaching far into spring-- which yowls in, predictably changing everything. Winter is the old man; spring is the newborn.

I love them both for different reasons.