The ice and snow blows through the little highland delta on Muddlety Creek as the long night inches closer. The Appalachian Winter is fickle here. Sometimes we get a white Christmas but most likely it be a wet Christmas instead. Real life is seldom like a story book. But real life is also constantly in renewal as well. Even though I refer to climatic winter as the season when the forest sleeps there are some arboreal sentinels that are only “playing possum” and are very much awake. Such as it is with the red alder. She sheds her leaves along with the rest of forest but when nobody is looking she puts forth her bloom. Beautiful crimson specks are found all along the wetlands right now. And soon they will swell with pollen to be carried on the winter wind. For all of my distaste of old man winter’s icy presence he is here to do a job for us. The howling gale that sweeps through the mountains and rivers propagates the members of the birch family. And while on warm days some bees will take advantage of pollen on the catkins they only gather from the male flowers. They don’t visit the tiny cones that will birth the next generation of trees. That responsibility falls to the cold hans of the winter wind. And without the right mixture of daylight and darkness the alder tree wouldn’t know that it’s time open one sleepy eye and add a little pop of color to the bland landscape.
Life is always with us. Even when it isn’t obvious.
Good night friends and be blessed throughout your days.
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