It's a Sunny Day!

It definitely feels like spring today.  There still is a nip in the air that doesn't quite go with the beautiful sunshine, however, there is that imperceptible 'smell' to the air that signals to me the shift in weather.  I can't really explain it except it smells like melting, an easing up, a release of the grip that hard winter has had.  Except this year, winter's turned out to be a weakling. 

Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed not having to shovel the car off and shiver in my living room to warm up in the morning but I miss my snow.  I was definitely going to learn how to cross country ski this year and everyday do a circuit or two of my 2 acres to keep in shape.  Cross off the cross country...NO snow, no sledding down the scary hill, no cold, red cheeks, no snowshoeing, no skiing or beautiful pictures of snow covered fields in Northeast Ohio this year. Nope, its 50 plus degrees outside today and the March wind is blowing.

 

Goldfinch Changing Colors a Month Early

So, what has this crazy weather done to the wildlife?  Well, the birds have eaten off the ground all winter or caught bugs and not had to depend upon us for food.  Those marginal migraters have only gone down to Canton for the winter or haven't left at all.  So, the birds that are harbingers of spring rolled into our area this week; Red-Winged Blackbirds, singing their spring 'gunkladee' song are now starting to look for nesting sites in the marshes around me.  A Grackle was pigging out on my suet feeder today and the Starling presence at my feeder is multiplying. Skunks wandering in a post-hibernation sleep walk ended up on the side of the road taking a most disappointing nap. The poor raccoon is so sleepy from staying up most of the winter he probably is in counseling for sleep deprivation issues.  The squirrels are fat and going on a weight loss program.

 

Human Gathering Winter Comfort Food

We humans have survived over the eons because we were able to learn and adapt to changing weather patterns.  Huddling in caves when snow hits, reliving the myths and  stories and working on repairing tools and things, socializing and building a society while weather forced us to shelter together.  It still brings us together over beer and brats after a snowshoe trip into the mountains, chili bubbling on the stove with hot cornbread in the oven for 15 after sledding or my favorite, steaming, spicy chicken soup with fat noodles to not only soothe the sore throat but to hit head on the germs with spicy seasonings. 

I think it is the juxtaposition of cold vs hot, life-threatening vs life-supporting, community vs solo that makes the normally difficult season of winter so interesting.  I've missed that livin' on the edge and huddling  together against a common foe this year.  BUT, we still have High School Basketball tourney time, there is still a chance for bad weather....and you Hoosiers know what I'm talkin' about.

A Beautiful Howling-Moon Night

Luckily, my driveway and house face east affording me a free and clear view of all orbs which rise in the east.  Tonight as I arrived in said drive, the full moon was up and had already sailed over the small tree line.  The night sky stretched clear and beautiful before me, a black velvet dress of a sky, an off-the-shoulder affair worn with a brilliant diamond necklace made of stars.  Howling-moon nights like this with a bite in the air, meaning it's about 32 degrees and chilling, are my favorite kind of backpacking weather.  Why you say?  Well, because on a night like this when out in the wild, I know I am fully alive. 

I set my tent in a clearing after hiking a PUD filled trail full of amazing views, cook my dinner over a backpacking stove while reviewing the days events with my hiking buddies, pee for the last time in hopes that I don't have to get out again and freeze my patootie off and then hit the sleeping bag before I can't feel my feet.  I like to put my boots in the bottom of my sleeping bag so that they aren't stiff and frozen in the morning.  As I snuggle into the fluffy softness of my 15 degree bag, I offer up a silent "thank-you" to the gear gods who design and make this lovely, lightweight backpacking gear which allows this cold-weenie to experience nights like this.  As I turn out my headlamp, I start the nightly ritual that we've developed over the years, I say into the darkness, "Good-night Debbie" and in a litany of laughing name-calling the group says good-night to each other until one of us ends saying what we all know ends this ritual, "Good-night John-boy". 

The night creeps in upon me and within minutes soft snoring starts but I remain awake enjoying the sounds which creep up next to my tent and sit there waiting to scare me like imaginary monsters in a closet.  Small scuffling, snuffling and noises of breaking leaves and twigs come from the edges of the clearing.  "What is out there", I think and while imagining what really COULD be out there, I fall asleep.

Later, deep into the full moon-howling night, I rise, exit my tent following the call of the wild, the need for a potty break.  It's about 25 degrees or colder, the frost dusts the tips of the bushes and paints the leaves on the forest floor with fairy dust and the moon makes it all sparkle with the colors of the rainbow, blinding me at times with the brilliance.  My breath floats before me where hot meets cold and everything is bathed in moon glow.  No one else is awake and it's freezing.   My fleece is all that protects me from the deep, clear cold and as I pull down the long underwear the icy air hits my nether parts.   Yikes!!  Oddly, enough pottying in the middle of the night is the best part of winter camping for the stark contrast between beauty and cold is mind-numbing, literally!  At this point, when done and returning my clothing to their proper place on my body, I stand, tilt my head back, stare into space and suck in the cold, cold reality of the immenseness of the universe.  I want to howl for the life within me.

And that is why on nights like this when I enter my safe, comfortable home, my wild side stays outside and sits on its haunches in the yard until the moon rises so high that it no longer reflects the colors of the rainbow off the hair on my head.  That is when I rise and walk, into the woods, into the wild, following the call of my self.