Winter is here (in full force) for those of us in the Northern
Hemisphere,
at least ~ and with it, comes a load of seasonal changes:
the leaves, bare as of autumn, have vanished from the deciduous
trees...
the grass often has been covered by layers of snow, occasionally with
hore-frost...
the landscape becomes unrecognizable when compared to summer months.
Other places in the world are most beautiful before and after our
arrival of winter. If looking for an 'escape route' ~ many
countries around the world will welcome you! Check Internet or
travel agencies for exciting places to replace your Canadian winter.
To pacify winter woes and/or wonders of this season,
consider the knowledge and emotions of the following.
Anton Chekhove says, “People don't notice whether it's Winter or
Summer when they are happy.”
Albert Camus states, “In the depth of winter, I finally learned,
that there was somewhere an
inivincible summer ~ so let us love winter ~ for it is the
'spring of genius.”
The wolf declared, “ The groundhog forecast 6 more weeks of
winter:
so, I ate him!!!”
According to Bill Veek, “There are only 2 seasons: winter and
baseball.”
Craig Ferguson believes, “It's the time of year when Canadians
mate!”
Margaret Atwood concludes, “Every Canadian has a complicated
relationship with the USA;
whereas, Americans think of Canada as a place from where weather
comes!”
Andy Goldsworthy observes that even Winter, an isolated patch of
snow, has a special quality!
No Winter lasts forever ~ no Spring skips its turn!”
Lewis Carrol ponders: “I wonder if the snow so loves the trees
and fields, that it kisses them so gently?
And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and
perhaps it says, Go to sleep, darlings till summer comes again.”
Mother Nature, never tirering, as she works through sun and rain;
never does she err in judgement; no mistakes, she ever makes...
As she plans each season's schedule ~ never any glory taken.
(Gertride Tooley Buchner from 'The Wedding of the leaves.')
Albert Einstein admonished: The most beautiful gift of nature
is that it gives us pleasure to look around ~ and try to
comprehend what we see.”
Nature bestows her own richest gifts
and with lavish hands, she works in shifts.
(Unknown author)
The
Winter Spirit and His Visitor
(as told by Cornelius Mathews ~ Native American North American)
An old man was sitting alone in his lodge by the side of a frozen
stream. It was the close of winter, and his fire was almost out. He
appeared very old and very desolate. His locks were white with age,
and he trembled in every joint. Day after day passed in solitude,
and he heard nothing but the sounds of the tempest, sweeping before
it the new-fallen snow.
One day as his fire was dying, a handsome young man approached and
entered his dwelling. His cheeks were red with the blood of youth;
his eyes sparkled with life ~ and a smile played upon his lips. He
walked with a light and quick step. His forehead was bound with a
wreath of sweet grass, in place of the warrior's frontlet ~ and he
carried a bunch of flowers in his hand.
“Ah!
My son,” said the old man, “I am happy to see you. Come in.Come!
Tell me of your adventures
and what strange lands you have been to see. Let us pass the night
together. I will tell you of my prowess and exploits ~ and what I
can perform. You shall do the same, and we shall amuse ourselves.”
He then drew from his sack a curiously-wrought antique pipe, and
having filled it with tobacco, rendered mild by an admixture of
certain dried leaves, he handed it to his guest. When this ceremony
was attended to, they began to speak.
“I
blow my breath,” said the old man, “and the streams stand still.
The water becomes stiff and hard as clear stone.”
“I
breathe,” said the young man, “ and flowers spring up all over
the plains.”
“I
shake my locks,” retorted the old man, “and snow covers the land.
The leaves fall from the trees at my command ~ and my breath blows
them away. The birds rise from the water and fly to a distant land.
The animals hide themselves from the glance of my eye ~ and the very
ground where I walk becomes as hard as flint.”
“I
shake my ringlets,” rejoined the young man, “and warm showers of
soft rain fall upon the earth. The plants lift up their heads out of
the ground like the eyes of children glistening with delight. My
voice recalls the birds. The warmth of my breath unlocks the
streams. Music fills the groves wherever I walk ~ and all nature
welcomes my approach.”
At length the sun began to rise.
A gentle warmth came over the place.
The tongue of the old man became silent.
The robin and the blue-bird began to sing on top of the lodge.
The stream began to murmur by the door
and the fragrance of the growing herbs and flowers came softly on
the vernal breeze.
Daylight fully revealed to the young man the character of his
entertainer. When he looked upon him, he had the vision of Peboan,
the icy old Winter-Spirit. Streams began to flow from his eyes. As
the sun increased, he grew less and less in stature ~ and presently
he had melted completely away.
Nothing
remained on the place of his lodge-fire but the mis-kodeed,
a small white flower with a pink border ~ which the young visitor,
Seegwun, the Spirit
of Spring,
placed in the wreath upon his brow
as his first trophy in the North.
* * * * * * *
If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant;
if we did not sometimes, taste of adversity, prosperity would not
be so welcome.
(Anne Bradstreet)
Writer: Merle Baird-Kerr...February 25, 2019
