The tall black oaks have wept their last, brittle brown tears, creating a winter blanket for the rich, red-brown earth. These leaves crunch under foot. Under mine, and the deer, and the squirrels.
Winter is coming and the woods are going to sleep.
From my kitchen window I savor the newly exposed expanse of azure sky. But my garden also sleeps. It looks like death with its broken branches and colorless remains. Most of the little creatures who found nectar and seeds and insects during the summer have gone.
But for those who remain, who need to get through this winter as much as I do, I offer a little support. I wrap up in a warm coat and slip on shoes and toss a handful or two of birdseed on the pathway. Bread crusts, and fruit - gone bad because I can't eat it quickly enough - get cut up and tossed there, too.
The deer know my voice now. I talk to them as I work at the kitchen sink. What exquisite hearing they have, with those big ears that turn independently of each other, one pointing to the woods behind and the other pointing towards me, in the window. Who knew that deer absolutely love nectarines, even if they are on the mushy side?
Every day or two I pull on my barn boots and fill a cart with wood from the shed. The rambling rooms of Sanctuary cannot stay truly warm without a good fire in the wood stove during the long winter nights. A few days ago I found blood on the little window sill where Domino likes to sit and watch the world outside. I discovered sores on the pads of two paws. He had jumped onto the wood stove while a fire was burning. Six winters at Sanctuary without such a thing from any of our cats. What was he thinking?
I am quite sure he will not be doing that again. Nevertheless, there is now an additional copper pot crowding on the stove top to discourage such stupidity in the future.
Our cats have loved the warmth of the stove as much as I do. They often spend winter days curled in a soft-sided pet bed savoring the warmth of each other and the stove.
But this year Domino refuses to lay in it. He just won't. I pick him up and try to settle him on the cushion. He sniffs and pussyfoots and jumps back out. He and Simon used to remind me of the yin yang symbol when they were curled together - Simon's light tan body forming a circle with Domino's silky black.
We still miss Simon, Domino and me. Somehow, this winter just seems darker without him.
I have begun taking my walks in the afternoon now, timing them to bask in golden sunsets. For several years I have been adding daffodils in our various garden beds. They are one of the few things that I have found to be truly deer resistant. I go from garden to garden, bed to bed, and find pointed green tips pushing up through the dark soil. Our coldest days are still to come, but these tenacious bulbs have decided it is time to wake up and get on with the work of producing beauty.
Winter doesn't last forever.
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