Snow Dust

We just had 1/2-inch of snow overnight, the featherweight fluffy kind. I positioned myself behind the garage in my secret, private spot to greet the sun rising. The breeze came up nearly imperceptibly at first, except for the sparkly snow dust it sent cascading off the branches. The dust ever so softly brushed my cheeks. We are in the upswing of a warming trend. The temperature is to hit the freezing mark in 2 days, so says the weatherman. But the animals seem to sense it. I observe the animal world waking up. First the squirrels. One silently traverses the top of the backyard fence and maneuvers the right angle at the corner to come closer. As a motionless sentry guard he eyes me the whole time I am present. On the opposite side of the yard and atop my big old oak tree, one of his kin moves in a ghostly manner across the stout, far-reaching branch to the very top of the adjoining evergreen tree, from which he hops over to a branch of the neighbor's tree. They do not make a sound this early in the morn, and yet all is not silent. I begin to pick up on little bird chirps and the very distant drill of a woodpecker. The breeze gradually strengthens to rustle the dried oak leaves that remain firmly attached through winter 'til new spring growth pushes them free. Aah yes, spring will be here soon. I return indoors, once again gently reassured and calmed by the nature around me.

Spring in the air at 22 below?

My surprise knew no bounds as I crossed my back door threshold into the great outdoors. I just did not expect it--that in the middle of performing the weekly drudgery in setting the trash at the curb for pickup, I would be treated to a delight of the senses. I stop short on the stoop. The sun is fiercely bright. According to the radio, we are still in a wind chill WARNING until noon today. Hundreds of schools across Minnesota are either closed or 2 hours late. Wind chills were 50 below zero range yesterday morning. (Trust me. That is mighty cold.)

I just did not expect it. And yet clear and distinct were the courting calls of the cardinals. “Tweet, tweet” back and forth they go, two of them, one near and one a bit distant. The one near calls out with an almost immediate reply back from the other somewhere farther. I try to find them but am unable to spy in the treetops for the blinding sun just coming up over the neighborhood roofs. I gradually become aware of all kinds of critter activity. Other birds are chattering away and flitting about. Three squirrels emerge one by one out of the hole in the giant oak out back. (I do not know how they all fit in there. I once took a stick to test the depth. The hollow inside did not seem so roomy.) This is January? Yes, indeed! And the wildlife seems to inherently know that a thaw is on the way, just as the weatherman predicts middle 30’s by middle of next week.