My Books

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Between The Woods and the Frozen Lake

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep." Robert Frost

Sometimes I can see the appeal of hibernation.

Forget slush. Forget black-iced roads. Forget the crack and thud of falling trees festooned in tendrils of live power lines.

Just curl up somewhere warm and dry and wait it out. Dream of spring.

Or, if you live in Seattle, dream of July, when the warmth of spring may arrive for a few days.

Do I sound bitter? I have no cause. Many in our wet and chilly region lost power for five days or more during our recent snowstorm. And the rains which followed the snow launched mudslides all over the area. All those dramatic hillside lake views come with risks.

So, all in all, I am grateful to be on the return slope of winter’s worst peak. The days are getting a few minutes longer with every sunrise. The robins have already returned. The perfume of the sweetbox blooming outside the kitchen door floats in the damp air.

We’re still a long way from turtle weather, but I see them in my dreams.

Hope, denial, call it what you will, we are a nation of dreamers.

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