Soaking up winter silence

Last Friday was one of those rare days where the woods was sometimes totally silent. I stopped to collect cruise information on a sunny, south facing hillside. The gray bark of sugar maple crowns was bright against the deep blue sky. In a pause before I started writing, I realized that the woods was silent. I closed my eyes, and I could feel the heat of the sun on my right cheek. I listened as hard as I could. . . not a sound. Not a crow, not a chickadee, not a dried leaf still on the tree rustling in a breeze. Total silence. What a delight! Then, a soft breeze, and snow on branches would fall and tinkle to the ground. I turned into the sun and smiled. What a day to work in the woods!

Our brains are wired to see familiar shapes in the abstract. Think of finding faces and animals in clouds passing overhead. I saw the same thing in snow in this small spring. An elf squatting down, the profile of a bald man, people dancing. What do you see in this spring?

A coldwater spring in Vernon County