I have been waiting for the storm and blizzard to calm down to ordinary wind. Finally, yesterday I could take a long walk by our lake to investigate the surroundings in winter.
There is ice on the lake, and snow. No skaters so far, because the nights have to be cold for many days first.
Last years flowers stand about 150 cm tall, facing winter without fear.
As I walk around the bend I realize I have no bread or anything to give the ducks – if they see me coming…
…and they do. Happily flying and running towards me, hoping for something tasty.
I feel like a traitor, a trespasser – knowing I have nothing to offer but my soft voice. I try to tell them how sorry I am and that surely someone will come today, feeding them. Most days there are.
They rest for a while, gently listening, then slowly move back to the water again.
Passing the old house, the snow drifts are climbing the steps.
On my way back, I notice the very different patterns on the birch trees. They clearly are individuals, just like us.
And so are the stones, with their clouds, valleys and hills.
On going back home, I think about how soothing it is with the very few colours of winter. Maybe we need that. Maybe our senses need to rest a while before the riot of spring and summer.