As I look out the window, I see the textures and lack of color, so different from our Summer and Fall seasons here. The seemingly large tracts of trees and scrub cover, are reduced to stark mono cultures. I often wonder how anything not only survives this brutal landscape but ends up thriving here in the northern plains.
Our home lies where the great hardwood forest region meets the plains.
I marvel at the bur oaks in our front yard, majestic and strong, They stand guard near our driveway entrance. A naturally, perfectly engineered species common in our area. Their symmetrical wide span, branches out to make the bur oak resilient from the constant wind here on the ridge. They have thick core bark, resistant to catastrophes such as fire and prolonged drought. The strong interior wood has character and longevity in all it’s uses. The tree’s tap root is an amazing anchor and draws sustenance from the earth, in my opinion we humans should try to mimic the mighty bur oak.
Winter, I don’t care for it. I enjoy the unrestrained movement that is always available to me in the warmer seasons. The constant growth and glow contained in those long days of light. I dig and saw wood to work through the days frustrations and find those activities relaxing. Winter steals these from me. I know those days will return. My impatience with Winter expands in direct correlation with my waistline this time of year.
Soon, I will trade this white desert for another, and head to Arizona for a respite, to work in the sun, all the while planning and scheming about Spring in God’s Country.
-K