And yesterday, in the garden, the air snapped with anticipation as magic evolved in the form of gentle flakes of snow. Like an unexpected apparition—snow; out of the bosom of the air it came, silent, and soft, and slow. Big fluffy flakes danced and meandered about the garden in the form of tiny delicate clouds; like a veil from heaven, it rested in the atmosphere for just a fleeting moment before it got swallowed up by the invisible spirits of the ground. And Father Winter too—it blew and whispered enchanting words to my ears with unexpected surprises…
From where I was standing, in my kitchen, a larger shadow crossed my field of vision over the garden. I am acquainted with these swift shadows of winter. I know them by name, and silently in my heart I wait for these precious few moments with cheer anticipation. So I run to the window, and indeed, there it was—the shadow; that Northern Flicker that has been visiting my garden this winter.
Such peaceful a scene—the gentle snow, the voices and colors of winter and the birds which inhabit it—precious gifts from above that I treasure in my heart with thankfulness and quiet gratitude.
These are the secrets of winter, long in its cloudy bosom hoarded, from time to time whispered and revealed to whoever wants to listen, and see, and appreciate it.
