A new month begins
…and my father’s death…and the inauguration of President Obama. We have left the month of ice storms and school snow days and unreliable walking paths. It was a notable…and harsh…month, but it was true to itself. It did not tease me with false warmth or promise to be comfortable. It made me think and work in ways I did not expect. It even made me work at taking a walk to find comfort. It did not hold my hand, but pushed me forward…into the month of Valentine’s Day…and Presidents’ Day…and the arrival of seed catalogs and the beginning of the impatient transitioning to spring…a season that is not necessarily prettier or gentler (depending on how you look at things) but one that hopefully will be true to itself. It is forty degrees today so I have more company at Harrybrooke, not like the days that required gumption. I suddenly have a flash of understanding as to why people climb mountains...in a word, it is resolve. Many of the frozen patches I hopped around last week in Harrybrooke have turned to puddles. I marvel at the give and take of the season, how it just happens and how I almost miss noticing a melted puddle as the pleasure of the day…and suddenly, two Canada geese appear on my second go around. There is evidence of lots of activity in the footprints left all over the snow-covered landscape - hungry deer, comic squirrels, feral cats, and maybe a logy skunk or raccoon - and I sense the interruption of hibernation, of dormancy, right under my feet…and I enter the month of births…Lincoln and Washington and Susan B. Anthony…and the births of my sons… days to celebrate.