A few days prior to meteorological winter, on cold fingers the bitter season quietly crept in.
Then quickly retreated.
Couple weeks later, a flash freeze roared down from the
northwest.
Arctic in origin, that let everyone know where we stood.
And reminded me that abject embrace of a landscape fast frozen beyond when I feel
my fingers is no mean trick indeed.
Resilience. An organic gift, critical to life itself.
The spell passed but prairie, wetlands and oak
savanna alike hunkered down for the duration.
No fools we.
Soon enough, winter’s dark days swept in for to eat.
As they will.
As they must. Time is short.
The new year came and snow it did.
Tallies fell near long-term seasonal norms. Good news, big picture.
Later, a generous February thaw fed all that moisture back to the land in a thrice.
Meteorological spring began yesterday.
Some distance west from these Great Lakes, red flag warnings are up and those folk must pay heed, as fire's all but inevitable over coming months.
Let no one claim they weren't warned. Seasons don't work that way. History neither, for that matter.
Locally we’re mighty dry, though not parched. And such is systemic drought.
Yet that brown tangle up there promises soon enough to be this, regardless:
Provided the sun also still rises and skies @ least
occasionally weep, that is.
