Long season

It was Friday after the storm.

I climbed the hill to see if the plows were running, but found myself distracted. Looking along the culverts, I noticed patterns made by the wind. The sparkling snow was sculpted like sand. Lines danced across its surface, perfect in its imperfection. I thought of pressing my mitten deep into the drift to show a solidarity with the wind and it's destructive ways when a call came from overhead.

Among the barren sassafras and oak branches, a tufted titmouse and red-bellied woodpecker called out to each other. I watched them for a time, the former making little headway moving up a gray wrinkled trunk before moving slowly back down. The latter, oddly named given his bright red cap and snowy white belly, swooped across the road and disappeared into the woods to the north.

The sunlight was bright against the snow, electrifying the blue sky. I turned west to shield my eyes, looking downhill towards my house. It seemed to huddle on the hill under its cap of thick snow. The wind whipped up along the snow banks and howled in the trees. I found it difficult to imagine this same location in summer - always a welcome shaded break with a cooling breeze, whether returning from a long run or a bike ride down to the stream at the front of the neighborhood. Everything about it now was harsh.

I settled my hat more snugly over my ears, gave one last glance over my shoulder at the roads as yet undisturbed by a plow, and headed back downhill toward home. The wind pressed against my chest and plastered my pants against my legs. I was grateful for the warm socks and hiking boots as I followed the tire tracks from a truck that had ventured uphill earlier in the morning (only to return immediately on viewing the four-foot drifts blocking the exit to the state road).

I realize there is a lot more winter to come. It is possible, even likely, that we will experience more noteworthy snow events before the season winds down. But the remnants of this storm will be with us for some time, with its cold self-insulating. I can take down the Valentine's decorations, but there is no denying there is a long and cold road to travel before I can even deign to feel deserving of the sun's warmth on my soul.