In Praise of Late Winter

“Well-apparel’d April on the heel of Winter treads.” - Shakespeare, "Romeo and Juliet"

This morning the blueberry stems are a red mist after a rainy night. The gardener eyes last year’s zinnia, daisy and cone-flower stalks, now that they’re ready for cutting; the birds have had their winter seeds.

I hesitate to say this, but I feel a connection to those stalks topped with bedraggled shells of blossoms, and to the ground covered in all shades of brown, the bare gray trees, the pale skies. They are resting.

But with the sun higher each day, nature looks not so much rested as spent. I admit I can identify with that. So I’m going outside to honor what remains of winter’s rough ways, to find beauty in what still is.

In the picture below, the dark green laurels beyond the garden trellis give shelter to juncos, chickadees, cardinals and a few bluebirds passing over our hill.

Not everything is easily seen, such as the mushroom below. I think it might be an amanita. If you are a mycophile, please feel free to correct me.

So far this winter, the Appalachians seem to have protected us from great snowfall, although our mature camellia was damaged by a zero-degree night. Here are “snowflake flowers” in the thrift, some marvelous hoarfrost and a brief moment of ice:

Very often what is not in the picture is the sound of crows planning their day …

… or a woodpecker announcing his flight across the meadow into the woods …

… or the return of birdsong in the morning.

Nature is waking up and I object! I haven’t rested enough.

But I leave my chair by the woodstove to go out into late winter. There’s still time, before it completely disappears in a mass of fresh green and sublime white, purple and yellow … and becomes April.

Photos by Deda Edney