Melting Like Ice Cream

There are signs of it--small signs--but evidence, nonetheless. We squint and gaze hard out the window each morning for a promise that it's really coming. Finally, we load up in the truck and go looking for Spring. It must be out there somewhere. We figure that maybe, just maybe, if we get in the vicinity of nature, we'll have us a closer look and validate our long-awaited hope.

 

Upon arrival at one of our favourite spots, we notice the creek has thawed and it curves and sinks around snowy banks like warm fudge poured over a bowl of cold vanilla ice cream. A bright red cardinal cheers as if to say he sees it too, and alighting on a branch jutting out from the snow, he becomes the cherry on top in this optimistic scene. The recently silent woods is now alive with calls, squawks and twitters practicing their chorus that expectantly welcomes old friends returning from the south. On this trip, we don't catch too many more signs except that we can now step across the little boardwalk that was buried in snow like piles of whipped cream just a few weeks earlier. That's enough for us. Hope springs up inside of us and we're grateful that the melting of that sweet, white offering we'd dreamed about at Christmas, is now dripping away, revealing new, delicious gifts.

 



 

This Longest of Winters

She tosses black oil sunflower seeds out over her snowy yard from the porch and in seconds, feathered ones from every direction flutter in for their free lunch. I watch from the window and I know that even though this little ritual cheers her heart, this longest of winters is taking it's toll on her. My mom's injuries from the accident have continued to grip her like a thick icicle that won't let go. The surgeon says she won't get well unless she has  invasive surgery that will perhaps put her out for a year. There are other complications to it as well, and so she waits and prays and tries to decide what to do. In the meantime, she does her best to walk the icy roads for exercize, drive with trepidation, and clean her home in stages, as not to incur too much pain. 

 

A good, full winter with its extreme cold and mounds of snow is normally her favourite. My mom prays for snow and her grandchildren are reminded of her when they hear the song, "Let It Snow". But this time, the relentless harshness of the season has been discouraging. And so, we feed birds, take photos and thank the Lord for how He cares for us like He provides for them. She smiles, watches carefully and exclaims when the cardinals return. They didn't come all summer and now she has a splash of red in her dark winter--the cardinals, saved for such a time as this longest of seasons. Hope flies in and God whispers that He sees her in that little chair, gazing out the window into the bleakness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

More about her accident here.

Disruptive

 

Kids crunch and slide and skiff on snow,

Scream and squawk and slip below

Escarpment's crust.

 

I listen for the blue jay's cry,

Woodpecker's scarlet I squint to spy,

But they unconsciously disrupt.

 

I raise my specs toward limb and branch,

"Caw" and powdery dust, evidence,

But it's gone with a squeal from behind.

 

I spin around, retreat in loss.

Forthcoming days birds and I will cross 

Quiet paths, when children mind.

 

Disappointed in my lack of treasure,

But by what standard had I measured

That which brings delight?

 

With laughter and breathless wonder

Children clomp heavy to their mother,

Who embraces richest prize!

 

By: Heather Vanderkruk

 

I don't know what I'm thinking when I take those kiddos birding with me. What I do know is that at the end of every noisy, frustrating, bird-less hike, I learn what my real prize is... them :) 

Braving the Storm

It was just the beginning of the storm when he suited up in his winter armour. His plastic, sled-shield was positioned for protection as he stepped out and surveyed the immensity of the white world before him. I could tell his hesitation was only to take it all in before he dove full force into that blast of wind and snow. He faced the elements with pleasure for he is self-proclaimed, "Skinny Superhero" (who can fit through anything, and can brave any storm, I might add). I gazed upon my tiny hero with adoration. I love winter simply for this reason--my children are elated that the earth has changed and they're determined to enjoy every minute of it.

Winter Melts Into Spring