Brrrr…. It’s cold outside!
I am sitting in my house, bundled up, drinking tea with slippers on my feet and a warm snuggly sweater hugging my chilled body. I am thankful for my warm home and that I am safe and so is my family.
I am inclined to reflect back on snow days as a child and appreciate how those experiences added joy to my already wonderful life. I am reminded again of the delights of the four seasons and the contributions each one brings to our world of discovery and sensations.
I don’t really mind the fluffy white stuff and the frigid temperatures, of course within reason but I wouldn’t want it to last as long as it did on the Dakota prairies in The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I can’t say that I would get excited about accommodating snow and cold from the first of October to the end of April. In Laura’s book she shares about the deep snow drifts as high as the train (P.214); twisting hay for fuel (P. 189) and using a coffee grinder for making bread (P. 194). That was hard work and I am thankful for our amenities today that make getting through a cold snap so much easier.
Winter brings silence. When snow covers the landscape it absorbs sound waves making it seem quieter outside. The silent air is powerful and yet tranquil and has the ability to bring a feeling of pause to a weary world. Winter makes me aware that in the silence there is wisdom and part of this wisdom is darkness. The darkness that covers the land for long periods reminds us to find a warm place and settle in for a while; relax, wait and get some rest because something bigger is just around the corner. We need the cold season to rejuvenate our minds and bodies for the work that follows in Spring and Summer.
The season of winter is like going to bed. Many animals enter into their own form of respite in this cold season and go to their own beds for the long cold months. Thank goodness they are created to know how and where to repose and don’t need to crawl into a small crowded mitten left lying in the forest to find warmth, as in The Mitten by Jan Bret. They use these cold months wisely and know the importance of saying goodbye to what was and leaning toward growth and it is winter that bridges the gap and brings these two experiences together.
Children don’t often feel the brutal cold as much as we adults do. I know that when I was young, I could play out in the snow for hours and when it was time to come indoors, sometimes a battle ensued. I enjoy reflecting back on some of my memorable times spent outdoors in the winter months, experiencing the cold and snow either alongside my siblings, alone or with animal friends to keep me company. I am reminded of three very different winter stories from my childhood. These stories stand out because of the joy I felt at the time and how the experience permeated by being. Within the play it is coincidental that each story involves a furry friend. My memories of these experiences are crystal clear and it is only today that I can pull lessons from these encounters because of the mature lenses I now see through. I welcome these memories again and smile with gratitude for my childhood in winter, on the farm on the Alberta prairies.
Facing Fear Like a Cottontail
I am sitting in the miniature snow house on the other side of the trees near the garbage barrels. The pine trees nearby create a nice shelter from the wind. I am about ten years old and I am dressed for the arctic. One of my itchy toques is on my head and I pull it off for a moment to give my head a scratch. I’m sitting on a little snow bench inside the walls of my snow house shaping the hard packed snow into another bowl; the next one will be for a plate or a cup. I rub the edges of the snow dishes smooth to perfection, then place them on the snow cupboard at the point of satisfaction. I am alone, yet content, pulling the scarf down from my mouth every so often because it is getting wet from my breath making it cold and irritating.
I have been playing in the snow for several hours and will play until my mother calls me to come inside. My dog Goldie comes to say hello until her tail gets in the way of my art and my face. I shoo her away afraid her delight will be my demise. Tired from all my efforts, I flop back onto my snow bed and watch the little snowflakes fall slowly down. I blink swiftly one blink after another while they land so very softly on my face. I don’t feel them at all, except for the moisture, the weight of them has no effect on me.
I sit up and glance around my winter home to assess my surroundings and I see a rabbit, huddled under one of the pine trees. His body is a little circular ball of fluff. He doesn’t move; he is still; he is silent, waiting and watching. He knows that he needs to be calm and stay hidden. coupled with being alert to other animals in order to survive the realities of life and the harshness of winter.
I pick up some snow in my hand and take a lick enjoying the cold on my tongue and again I see Goldie making her way toward me. Instantly, I worry that she will see the rabbit and chase him away. I take a look around and see rabbit tracks twisting and turning over the open slough, the tracks are packed and there are many and I realize he has been here before.
I have barely glanced away when I see the rabbit flash in front of me, running down one of the already made paths and Goldie not far behind him. I stand up swiftly and holler at her to come back and being the obedient dog she is, she stops quickly, spraying snow in all directions and comes trotting back. I give her a harsh reprimand and continue working on my structure a little while longer.
The sun is lower now, my house is finished and I feel complete. I hear my mother call for me and I head toward the house looking at the pine tree as I go. There, to my surprise, is the rabbit, sitting in a ball, tightly wound, all still and silent. He made his way back to his familiar spot where he obviously felt safe and secure but always prepared in case he ever had to run.
Of course I didn’t know this message at the time but now as an adult knowing a little more about rabbits I can see how these little creatures have to deal with constant fear of being discovered by preying animals. Sometimes those fears are irrational, depending on their location and other times they are very real. Despite this, they face their fears head on and continue to put themselves in places where they are exposed but where they can still forage for grass for survival. The little cottontail of my childhood faced his fear and gave me a wonderful gift at the same time.
Creative Mr. Squirrel
I’m fighting to get my hunter green one piece snowsuit on and the fear of missing the bus weighs heavy on my heart. I am panicked and hastily lick the tears that roll down my cherubic face while fighting my obstinate snowsuit. I am thankful the other kids and my teacher don’t notice. I am painfully shy and an experience like this makes me taciturn and morose.
I know that I am really late and there is no chance the bus will wait for me. I am six years old and in grade one and so very afraid and I am hoping my sister will ask the bus driver to keep waiting. The grade one school is separate from the elementary school and bus kids have to walk further to get to the bus loading area. The teachers always make sure the bus kids get ready at dismissal first so we aren’t late for the bus. Today, I am late and it is my own fault; I had to use the bathroom before getting my snowsuit on; the pains of an hours bus ride home.
My snowsuit finally acquiesced to my opposition and at long last I am dressed. I scramble down the large stairs of the old brick school building and run down the roadway that leads to the bus parking lot. There are no buses anywhere so I run back to the school building and flop down on the steps and begin to cry. I watch my tears fall on the snow in front of me and melt a pinhead size spot of snow and then watch it turn into an icy bubble. I’m sad, scared and embarrassed and rather than going back inside to tell the teacher I accept my failure and sit it out.
It is a moderate winter day with a small layer of snow on the ground and the sun is shining. As I sit there, I see a little squirrel darting here and there making tiny tracks in the snow. Every so often he stops to chirp in my direction then scrambles up the pine tree positioned near the school. He disappears inside a hole and as I watch him I feel a little happier inside. Tumbling back down the tree he scurries around, then does it all over again. I laugh as I watch him doing his exercises and acrobatics and I begin to feel warmer, less alone and less troubled. He is the distraction I need to keep me settled before help arrives. I was so engaged in watching his play that I didn’t notice the bus pull right up to my school and my sister running to my aid. She took me by the hand and led me to the bus. Writing about this now, as an adult I remember as a child, feeling like I sat there forever, but in reality, it really wasn’t very long at all.
I will always be grateful to the little squirrel that helped save the day back in grade one. Squirrels are creative problem solvers and look for opportunities where others might not see them. When the winter wind blows freezing cold, squirrels will stay tucked away in their nests but on milder days, they do come outside and continue searching for added bits of food that they can continue to store away in their hollow homes. Now as I reflect back on this experience there was a reason it was a little squirrel visiting me that day. I had a problem and somehow it needed to be fixed. Of course as a child, I wasn’t going to pick up on that message at the time, but I can see it now and I can implement the creative resourcefulness into my everyday life whenever a problem arises.
The Wiley Patience of a Coyote
The land around our farm hosted the flow of the Ten Mile Creek and it ran twisting and turning behind the yard through the pastures and carried on over other neighboring properties. The creek bank was host to deep drifts of snow in winter and it was here that my siblings and I built tunnels and snow forts. In the country It isn’t uncommon to see a coyote or two off in the distance in Spring, Summer and Fall but in the winter Coyotes become even more active because there is less food in their own territory for them to eat, so they venture closer toward the farms in hopes of finding small prey. We were told many times by our father to ignore them and to not be afraid of them. Coyotes typically only attack if cornered and so we grew up with a healthy respect for them, but not afraid. On this particular day all I was told was being put into practice.
I am having a great time digging and tunneling through the hard packed snow. I am working hard to create the exact pathway system from one tunnel house to another but my efforts are in vain because with every scoop of snow, either the wall or the roof would collapse. In my frustration I am ready to go inside when suddenly I spot a coyote sitting in the field neighboring the pasture. She was just sitting and staring at me, doing nothing but observing with a wiley curiosity. The wind is blowing the snow lightly across her face but she continues to sit perfectly still, unfazed. I continue to play and every so often I peek out from my shelter and see what she is doing. At one point I peek out when I see one of the farm cats walking toward me, padding down the hill in the deep snow. Concerned for the cats safety I turn around to see what the coyote is doing and she is still sitting there, staring in my direction. She is waiting, in the cold and blowing snow, waiting and watching to see where the cat is going and how she can get to her.
I am the obstacle between the coyote and the cat and I realize she isn’t watching me, as much as she is watching the cat. She won’t come any closer as long as I am there and so she has to wait, just like they do every winter. They wait for spring and the warmth to bring them fresh food to forage. They wait for their mate in the long January months so when March and April arrive they will have little pups running around. Their focus in winter is survival and right at that moment, I was the stumbling block between a tasty meal and going hungry another day.
Coyotes are great at adapting and posses a ton of grit and determination. They too, are resourceful but also very clever and I believe that it was that clever mind that kept her from crossing over from her territory to mine. She sat it out and waited, probably hoping at some point that I would retreat and she could make her attack. She was hungry so she chose patience and facing the discomforts of the weather. Her survival in winter is dependent on using her ability to adapt to circumstances. Unfortunately for her, on that day her grit didn’t pay off but she was a gift to me, teaching me something that I came to realize years later. Today, I strive for patience, through listening more and talking less, knowing when to push harder and when to stay still.
Winter is an oasis of gentle change, waiting, resting and storing up; saving energy and planning for growth. We all need winter, whether we like it or not. If we take a moment or two and pay attention to nature and how it responds to the shift in seasons we too can learn to adapt and embrace the gifts we are given during this cold time. For now, I will accept the frigid -35 degree temperatures, as difficult as this may be, because I know this too shall pass. For now, I will take a break, wait, anticipate and prepare for the change that is inevitably going to come.
