It’s cold and damp this February morning in the Appalachia mountains – bluejays, cardinals and squirrels are confused by the signs of a very early Spring – scattered with drops of freezing temperatures.
I, too, feel somewhat confused by the seasons lack of consistency . Winter is a necessary part of nesting, creative percolating – a time that’s been interrupted by an climate change.
Will the Spring come too soon and all be destroyed with the many frosts that should be forthcoming?
The word is a question and question is the word.
Here in Applachia …
land of heavy snowfalls, frost, rime ice and mistletoe
winter seems to have passed us by returning to Spring
daffodils and irises are sprouting through the brown, soggy ground
record rainfalls, fog and plenty of clouds
Where’s winter asks the worms as they squirm along the pavement looking for their home in the darkness of the earth
Where’s winter asks the fish in the pond as they swim around, confused by warm temperatures, sunshine, short days and rain
Where’s winter asks the trees as they sway back and forth confused by the winds of an early Spring…instead of Winter’s frozen ground
Where’s winter asks the farmers as their fields begin to sprout
Where’s winter asks I as I look about?
© Anita Adams 1/2019