Transformations

How do you know when winter has arrived?

​During the holiday season, it's easy. We watch the Rockefeller Center tree go up, or see the department store windows explode with gold and crystals in celebration of whatever seasonal holiday you may choose to recognize (how's that for being politically correct). My indicator for the arrival of winter is when my pond forms its first delicate coating of ice.

The summer's pond is an epicenter for the native flora and fauna, all jostling for their piece of this pristine landscape. It's abuzz with fish, birds, turtles, and assorted varments that slink from the woods in the hopes of snaring a tasty morsel.

​Then November comes.

This is a magical time. The turtles somehow know to disappear into their winter dens. The fish begin their sedentary existence in the depths of the water, while the ducks and geese have all flown south. What remains is an uninvited stillness that begins to descend upon the pond with stealth-like precision.

​The forever shifting surface of the summer's water succumbs to quietude as temperatures drop;  while the chill of winter silently extinguishes any visible sign of life. Slowly, without fanfare, one molecule of water at a time, the surface beings to solidify, encasing the once dynamic facade into a veneer of glistening ice. The pond becomes bound in a suspended animation, forced into a frozen dormancy.

Nature is constantly shape shifting, changing and evolving, just as you are. Take the time to immerse yourself in your natural world, for if you blink, you could miss these magical transformations, including your own.

​Live in color,
Abby