Winter Starkness

I've written many times about my dislike of winter and how the cold and long darkness affect my spirits.

We have had no snow this year, which could be good
or bad. (Margo D. Beller)

This year has a different wrinkle. We have not had any measurable snow in my part of the world at all this winter. While family members in New Hampshire are wallowing in the white stuff, where I live can be summed up in two colors: gray and brown. Snow would throw a blanket of white on the scene, which would be good for the plants but bad for my back (shoveling) and wallet (hiring the plow guy).

Today, walking this cloudy, cold, damp morning along one of my favorite paths, it was all gray and brown. It is another in a series of unsunny days. Seeing one of the distant jays, cardinals and woodpeckers I could hear would've provided some color but not seeing them, or any other bird except Canada geese flying overhead, does not help my mood.

The trees look depressed. With the leaves long down you can see the branches broken by past storms. The paved path I walk is becoming more difficult because of frost heaves from our weeks of extreme cold followed by weeks of above-average temperature. The Whippany River looks as sluggish as I feel.

Some may say there is beauty in starkness. This is what I saw in my travels this morning.

This pond formed by overwash on the other side
of the trail was frozen a few
weeks ago. Now it sits, slowly seeping
into the ground.

Trees fell into the Whippany River
in 2021. I guess they were left
by the park people because they
don't completely block the river's flow.

Whippany River seen from the path

The starkness of broken trees

Walking the path, surveying the tangle
of plants that will bloom again
in the spring

Among the few bits of color are the brown leaves
of the beech trees.