The Blessings of Wintry Weather

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View from our porch Feb. 25, 2019

The start of our winter was mild with temps in the upper 50s and sunny skies.  The bulbs were fooled into poking their heads up a month early.  I worried about another summer of unseasonably warm temperatures and drought.  The snowpack was low.  Now our familiar Western Oregon weather has returned.  Rain and even a little snow dusts the yard.  There was even enough powder snow where friends and I drove up to Mount Hood last week for a day of cross-country skiing.  I haven’t been able to do that in years.

I celebrate winter. This is my creative time. It is a time to come inside, literally and figuratively.  Nature needs rest and renewal and so do we.

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THE RAINS CAME

And the humans complained

But not the Earth who soaked the sky water deep into all its pores

Nor the trees who quenched their thirst in grateful gulps from deep roots

Nor the bulbs gathering strength for their dazzling spring displays

Nor the deer hungry for tender green grass

Nor the salmon longing to swim upstream

Nor the bees dreaming of anthers heavy with gold pollen and pistels leading to chambers of sweet nectar

Nor the seeds shivering with anticipation of their impending emergence

Nor the  bears conjuring images of plump berries in their sleep

Nor I, with book and pen

Joining their ranks 

Resting,

Going within

Savoring the blessings

Of wintery weather

 

Celebrating Rain and Earthworms

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It rains a lot in Western Oregon.  Until this weekend it has been a wet few weeks.  One can hear a good deal of whining about the weather by this time of year.  For me, I just roll with it.  Knowing we are having adequate rainfall and an average snowpack provides comfort to me in these times of “climate insecurity.”  The lakes will fill, the Salmon will have water to run in and a myriad of creatures and plants will be happy in the dry months yet to come.

Song of the Earthworms

The earthworms sing about rain

While we complain

Jolly songs as they move the soil

With their soft heads

Seeking the sweet aroma of decaying matter

Until they hear the drops fall

Turning to deluge

They turn their sleek, tubular bodies skyward

Toward the light

Emerging from their soil home

To languish in the freedom

Of puddled water laying on the earth

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