On my best days I feel more gratitude and less worry. Often those are the days I’ve puttered around my yard, a good dog not far away. She’s sniffing for the coyotes who have taken up residence in the thick undergrowth at the yard’s borders. She and I and the coyotes are all wondering if we’ll be able to live together in harmony – or not. But that’s a story for another day. Today’s post features a poem and photo essay about the colors of winter in my yard.
And brings delight as great as skies
That shine on summer’s wasteful, fertile dreams.
Winter’s purple gently clings
To quiet things that are not green –
Darkly purple as the blood
That flows in veins unseen.
I welcome darkness, frigid nights
And Winter’s purples, greys and browns –
Its tender velveteen.