Paying Attention
November 11, 2022
Walking in a winter wonderland Snowfall is always expected in the northland. When winter white will arrive is the unknown. Last night, two nights past the full moon, I went to bed as the ground outside began to take on her cloak of white. White is the collection of all color. White brings forth the bold patterns in the woods, marking branches, needles, tree trunks and frozen rosehips still on the stem. I forget each year how much I enjoy the gift of snow, the gift of seeing the woods around me in a different way. Stepping outside with Bandit, our seven year old hunting dog, we begin a walk around the yard. Looking up at snow frosted needles, I see what was hidden in plain sight most of the summer. Every red pine tree shows it’s age by the staggered stems, pruned close to the trunk by age and lack of sunlight, now capped by a skiff of white. Starting near the ground I can count the age of the tree by simply counting snow spots all the way up the trunk. I easily reach 35, 37, 41 before I stop counting tree ages. I’m getting dizzy. The red…