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.  


Winter’s grey makes wintergreen
Shine glossy, bossy, ever-queen

And brings delight as great as skies
That shine on summer’s wasteful, fertile dreams.

Winter’s brown sings songs of rest –
It promises nothing
But does suggest
That new things might come one day or the next
Despite everything.

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.



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