Monday, February 17, 2014

THAT KIND OF WINTER


I awoke at 1:06am with a start.  At first I thought it was morning.  The full moon cast bright bleached white light through the windows of my northern Michigan home with such abundance I thought for sure the sun had taken over. Forming deep shadows in snow, creating withering white twists and turns on the laden pine branches, I lost my breath to its beauty.  It’s been that kind of winter in Michigan.

 
For the last couple of years when someone complained about minimal flakes falling, or the need for knit hats to cut the chill, I always responded, “But it’s good for the Great Lakes lake levels, harshly low and receding yearly.”  This year with so much of our beloved Lakes frozen over, even the national news is echoing the cries of those who closely observe the Lakes in our front yards. Scientific explanations cite slower evaporation shutting off lake effect snow and ice, serving as fish egg protection from predators.  Nature lovers talk about crystalline scenes and exploring now accessible ice caves.  Driving along Grand Traverse Bay ice fishermen hauled sleds to favored fishing spots,  sweepers formed hockey and skating rinks, and crazy ice kite flyers hung on for dear life as they whooshed and whisked with the wind.  And even the wolves of Isle Royale are happy as their years of seeing and mating with the same wolves might be over with Lake Superior ice allowing them to travel to different mating grounds or even new wolves discovering them.  It’s been that kind of winter in Michigan.

 
Buried deep in life’s depression or the chaos and clutter of normal living, it is often hard to dig out: to reach the level where star bright crystals shimmer and shudder.  Oftentimes it isn’t in the middle of a frosted February or a mud deepening March.  It’s just the day or circumstance itself.  But then the moon wakes you to beams of beauty, you hear about wolves with new girlfriends or you catch the wild Bay wind of exhilaration and you know without a doubt, life will be good and pure again.  It’s been that kind of winter in Michigan.

 

SPEAK FOR THE LAND   Temples      of sacred rock Templates      of sequestered ravines Treasures      of seasonal ren...